


Exchange Students

by aldersprig



Category: Addergoole Series - Lyn Thorne-Alder, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Crossover, Fae & Fairies, Multi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldersprig/pseuds/aldersprig
Summary: This takes place during the time period of Order of the Phoenix for Harry Potter and during Year Nine (52:52) for Addergoole and is canon compliant up to the beginning of this story for both worlds, except for those places where canon has been changed to allow for these things happening in the same world.Warnings for non-con are put in place preemptively (I haven’t gotten that far into the writing yet) and the chapters that are such will be noted as such in the beginning.





	1. Harry: Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the time period of Order of the Phoenix for Harry Potter and during Year Nine ([52:52](http://www.addergoole.com/9/)) for Addergoole and is canon compliant up to the beginning of this story for both worlds, except for those places where canon has been changed to allow for these things happening in the same world. 
> 
> Warnings for non-con are put in place preemptively (I haven’t gotten that far into the writing yet) and the chapters that are such will be noted as such in the beginning.

Harry’s summer had not been wonderful so far. It had been miserably boring right up until the moment where he’d ended up saving his cousin’s life (not that Dudley really cared all that much or would be _grateful_ , of course not, but he’d done it) and now he’d had to deal with this farce of a trial.

He’d been found not guilty, but only because Dumbledore had managed to show up. Fudge - and _Percy!_ \- clearly wanted him out of the picture, and that unctuous, awful woman Umbridge - 

He realized that Dumbledore had stopped abruptly in the hallway and reached for his wand unconsciously. 

There was a man standing in their way, wearing Muggle jeans and a t-shirt, his indigo wings spread wide to block the - 

his - 

Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes. Around him, he could hear muttering and complaining, but no sounds of alarm. 

“Interesting.” Dumbledore pushed his glasses a little more firmly on his nose. “What would one of the Fair Folk be doing here in the heart of the wizarding world?”

The Fair Folk? What? Harry looked up at Dumbledore, but there was nothing revealing on the Headmaster’s face. 

“Looks like Harry Potter and his Parent aren’t getting their mail,” the man growled. His voice was low and his accent American. And angry.

“My parents are dead.” Harry felt like he should feel something more than a dull ache at that. Anything. 

“Your legal parent, then.” The man’s voice softened and his wings tucked in slightly. They were bat wings, demon wings. He looked like he was trying to guard Harry against something. Against what…?

“My godfather?”

“I believe he means Petunia,” Dumbledore offered quietly. “And yes. I admit that I intercepted certain mail. Harry certainly had enough to worry about without this letter.”

He pulled out from his voluminous robes an envelope, a normal Muggle envelope with normal - well, foreign, but rather normal - stamps. It was made out to _Legal Guardian of Harry J. Potter_. 

Harry reached for it. Dumbledore pulled it just slightly away. “Harry, I know that they are not very deserving at the moment, but the wizarding world needs you. Please keep that in mind as you open this envelope.”

The winged man flapped those wings, sending a breeze over the two of them and down the hall. 

“He is a _child!_ He’s fifteen years old!”

How did this man know that? How did he know _anything_ about Harry?

“And he has already defeated one of our greatest enemies three times.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders forward. “The last one doesn’t really count,” he muttered. He hadn’t saved Cedric. He hadn’t _done_ anything.

“You can’t keep the letter from him, not unless you’re his legal guardian.” The man took a step forward. 

“And who are you?” Harry snarled. “What gives you the say?”

“Luca Hunting-Hawk.” His smile was gentle for Harry the way it wasn’t for Dumbledore. “Call me Luke.”

“And - no offense, sir, but what’s that have to do with me?”

He didn’t look offended. Harry thought maybe he looked sympathetic. That was a little off–putting. 

“Your mother - your real mother - made a promise when you were conceived, on your behalf. Whatever other adults think you’re obligated to do, that promise comes first, legally.”

“So why am I just hearing about this now?” Harry stared at the envelope, still in Dumbledore’s hand.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Neither Lily nor James told me about this promise, but I can make some assumptions, given what I know about them. But Harry, you’ve found your home here in the wizarding world. At Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts, where Cedric had died. Harry recognized the change of tone in Dumbledore’s voice and held out his hand politely.

Sighing, Dumbledore handed him the letter. “This could damage everything we’ve worked for, Harry.”

“I don’t think I should be trusted to work for anything,” Harry admitted frankly. “After the muck-up I did of the Triwizard Championship, I mean, _I_ wouldn’t trust me to do anything, and nobody else does, either. They think I’m a liar. Some of them think I’m a murderer. I’m not,” he added to the man in front of him.

“You don’t sound like a liar,” Luca agreed. “The letter?”

“Oh.” Harry stared at it for a moment before remembering that one opened letters. Slowly he lifted the flap and pulled out the paper. 

Even more slowly he read it. Twice. 

It was nice paper, thick paper, printed, like on a Muggle machine, and then signed with a very tidy signature in teal-green ink that matched the crest exactly. The crest - he stared at it for a moment. “It’s got a tail,” he muttered. “And horns. And it says-”

“Harry! Harry, there you are! My father said -” Ron came to a skidding halt an arm’s length away from Harry, Dumbledore, and Luca. Right behind him - and running a bit into him as he stopped - were Hermione and Ginny. “Who’s this, then?”

“Ron, Hermione, Ginny, this is Luca Hunting-Hawk. Sir, these are my friends.” He read the letter again and then offered it to Luca. “And I’m not going anywhere without them.”

He felt a little guilty at the way that he could see Dumbledore relax at that. He really shouldn’t be - he really _couldn’t_ be - depending on Harry. It wasn’t fair to the world.

Luca nodded politely — although he didn’t take the letter - his eyes raking over the three of them. Something about his look reminded Harry of Mad-Eye Moody, although physically, the two couldn’t be more different. “Ron - Weasley,” he said. “Right?”

“That’s me. Who’s this, then?” Ron looked at Harry, clearly ready to whip out his wand if he needed to.

In answer, Harry passed Hermione the letter. 

She read it quickly, but certain phrases seemed to escape her lips as she did so. “-honored to inform you — arranged at the time of your _birth!_ Wait. Harry, is this a _Muggle_ school?”

A look went between Luca and Dumbledore. After a moment, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Hermione Granger; the brightest witch of her era and a Muggle-born member of the Wizarding world.”

Luca looked like he was taking mental notes - or sizing them up. Harry stood a little taller.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he finally remembered to answer. She was poking him in the arm. “I guess Professor Dumbledore stole my mail, because this is the first time I’ve seen that letter.”

“It’s not a muggle school,” Luca answered slowly, “but it’s not a wizard school, either. It’s-” He was clearly struggling with some terminology, maybe the ‘States words against the British English.

“The Wizarding World, here and around the world, is part of a larger magical community that some would call _fae_ or _Fair Folk_ ,” Dumbledore answered slowly, “although we prefer to stay insular and are not usually bothered by our fae brethren and certainly not invited to attend their schools.”

“Purebloods are purebloods,” Luca muttered, his wings twitching. Harry found himself moving between the man and Hermione, reaching for the wand that had gotten him in this mess in the first place. “Our school isn’t like that. Harry’s mother and father -” he paused, folded his wings close, and bowed to Harry. “I’m sorry. I know you must not remember much about them. But your mother agreed to send you to Addergoole when it was time.”

“Time?” Harry was impressed that his voice didn’t squeak. “What’s _time_?”

“We have a seer who helps us -”

“Oh, _seers_ ,” Hermione scoffed. “So you naturally showed up at exactly the worst moment.”

“Hermione,” Ron hissed. “You can’t just talk to - talk to angry strangers with wings like that!”

“And why not? Am I not _pure-blooded_ enough for him?”

“Miss Granger, I would ask that you not antagonize the gentleman Mara from America. What he meant by pure-blood is, I assure you, quite different from what, say, some of your classmates might mean. And he is - although his presence may not be the most welcome -”

“-He wants to take Harry to _America!_ You’re bloody right he’s unwelcome!” Ron cleared his throat. “Uh. Sirs. That is -”

“I get it.” Luca smiled at Ron in a way that looked surprisingly genuine. “Look, because of Harry’s - uh-”

“Unique position,” Dumbledore offered.

Harry wondered if they meant _Boy Who Lived._ If they’d heard of that even across the pond, he was never going to be able to live it down.

“Yeah. That’s a good way to put it. Because of Harry’s _unique position_ , we can take up to three friends - classmates - with him. For the whole four years.”

Dumbledore coughed. “I do hope you realize that you are looking at some of the cleverest, bravest people in their generation…”

Harry wasn’t sure why that didn’t feel like a compliment this time.

Luca looked at Dumbledore. “Are you in the middle of one of those Dark Wizard battles again? Didn’t you just defeat the last one? Grimby-something?”

“That was quite a few years ago. And yes. Yes, although many of my colleagues don’t wish to admit it, we are.” Dumbledore looked around slowly. “That is the problem, you see. Mr. Potter here and his friends are quite crucial to our battle.”

Harry hunched his shoulders up. He hadn’t done anything _crucial_ lately, he’d just made a mess of things. 

“I have a suggestion,” Luca said slowly. “How about an exchange program? I will send three or four of our brightest, bravest students to Hogwarts for - say, as long as they’d be there depending on their age. I can always send a different set later. I know just the three.” Harry wasn’t sure, but he thought the winged man was amused. “And you send Harry and three others to Addergoole to keep him company.”

“Three others, hrrm? Well, Mr. Potter, it seems I don’t have a choice but to release you to the United States. But who should go with you, hrrrm?”

“Ron, Hermione, and Ginny,” he answered without hesitation. 

“These three?” Luca’s eyes raked over them. “They’re your age?”

“Gin’s a year younger.” Ron had put himself between his sister and the man protectively. 

“Not her.” Luca almost snarled it. “Too young. Fifteen is the bottom limit, and that’s still young.”

“But-” Harry sighed. “Nev-”

“Draco Malfoy,” Dumbledore interrupted. “I know, I know he’s not particularly your _friend_ , Harry, but I do believe it would do him a world of good. And it would, ah, it would solve some issues I would be having here, that is, at Hogwarts, with you gone.”

Harry sighed. “You’re never going to get Lucius Malfoy to agree to that,” he muttered, but his heart already wasn’t in it. You could never talk Dumbledore out of anything he really wanted, and if the Wizengamot couldn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to be able to. 

“No, but I don’t need to talk to Lucius at all. By the laws that these places go by, all I have to do is get Narcissa to agree.” He looked at Luca. “Sir Hunting-Hawk, you will need to get the approval of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley’s mothers as well, won’t you? This is going to take some time.”

“Oi!” Ginny wasn’t ready to be left behind yet. “What’s wrong with me, anyway? I’m just as tough as they are! Tell them, Harry!”

Luca’s wings spread wide. “We don’t,” he gritted, “allow students at the age of fourteen. Next year. Next year we can talk about it.”

Harry took her hands. “Gin, Gin, if we’re going, then Dumbledore and Hogwarts are going to need you and Neville and Luna, okay? You have to be strong and you have to remember that Voldemort is really back. Don’t let people push you around.” He smiled at her and hoped that it looked real. He didn’t feel like anything was worth smiling about, lately. “I know you can do that. Be tough.”

She huffed and pulled her hands away. “Honestly. Boys.” She looked pleased as she looked away, though. “Of _course_ I’ll be tough. You show those American wizards what you’re made of, and I’ll help with these exchange students.”

He’d missed something Luca and Dumbledore had said to each other, but at the moment, Luca was saying - “basics in wand magic, of course. You know we do things a bit differently. But Sylvia is brilliant and the other two - three - will muddle along following her lead.”

Differently? Harry looked at Hermione, who had a look of intense concentration on her face. “Harry,” she hissed, “we’re going to be learning _different_ magic. Do you know what that means?”

Harry swallowed. “More homework?”

“Well, of course, it’s a completely new school. But it also means that when we come back here, we will have _a completely different set of tools_ than anyone else! Harry, this is brilliant!” Suddenly, she hugged him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Well, of course.” He patted her back awkwardly. “You’re my best mates. Who else would I invite?”

“Not me,” Ginny sulked. 

“Hey, that one’s not my fault!”

“I know. But it’s still horrid. You three get to go off and have fun-”

“Hey.” Ron patted her shoulder in an awkward moment of brotherly concern. “Look, we don’t know if Mum will say yes, do we? And if she does, I promise I’ll write to you every month. I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”

“I’ll write too, Ginny,” Hermione offered. “We all will. All right? And you can tell us all about the year at Hogwarts so we don’t feel like we’re missing out on any excitement.”

Last year’s _excitement_ had been the sort of thing Harry would have rather missed out on, but it seemed to be brightening Ginny up. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “But Ron’s right. Mum’s never going to let him go across the pond.”

“You might want to have some back-ups in place in case your friends can’t come,” Luca informed Harry solemnly. “If you let me know where you’re staying, I’ll be back to get you - and your friends-”

“-and Malfoy,” Ron muttered.

“-and classmates in one week. That’ll give you a chance to do a little sightseeing before classes start.”


	2. Luke: Phone Call to America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke calls home. It goes about as well as expected.

“You knew this was likely to happen, Regine. You knew this was going to happen when you invited the ‘wizarding’ girl into your program. You know how they are.”

“You couldn’t get them to agree without giving up exchange students -  _ four _ of them?”

“Regine.”  Luke pulled the phone away from his face and glared at it for a moment before putting it back to his ear.  “I got you  _ four  _ ‘wizarding’ students.  Four. For all four years.  You can lose a couple students for a couple years.  Besides,” he added, because he hadn’t been crew with the woman for this long without knowing a thing or two about her, “think about the information we’ll get back about the current ‘wizarding’ community.  These are good kids, Regine. They’re going to want to talk all about it when they get back.”

“These?”  He could almost hear her eyebrow lifting.  “Do you have suggestions, then? Have you already decided?”

There was more than one reason he’d stayed here in the UK and called.  She was easier to cope with over the phone, for one.

“We’re going to have to talk to them - and in some cases, their mentors - but I have some thoughts.”  He cleared his throat. “Sylvia, Arundel, and Porter would be a good crew. They’re good kids, they’re fearless, and Porter’s power is useful if they get in a tight bind.”

“That’s three.”  Regine didn’t argue with his choices yet.  

“And I was thinking Kyle.”

“He hasn’t even started school here yet.”

“And yet he was in the village his whole childhood. He grew up seeped in it.  He’s Maureen’s kid. If anyone can handle it, it’s going to be him.”

“And their graduation requirements?”

He hesitated.  This was going to be the tricky part.  “Waive half. The rest, ask them to stay an extra year.  The… school, this place, it ends at eighteen. They could do another year or two back at Addergoole after that and not be that much older than most of our graduates.”

“You’ve been thinking this through.”  She sounded surprised. 

Luke tried not to take too much offense. 

“You sent me to go to the  _ wizarding world _ .  I had to do a lot of thinking.  They’re not really fond of the fae around there, you know.”

“They  _ are _ fae.”  Regine’s calm voice did the thing she always did: stating facts as if they changed emotions. 

“That doesn’t mean that they think they are, or like their fae relatives.  They don’t even like their  _ centaur _ relatives, and they left in the same schism…” He trailed off.  “Anyway. Yes. I’ve been thinking. Do you want to talk to Laurel and Reid before I talk to Arundel?”

“It would likely be best, yes.  I’ll do that - or convince Michael to.  He has a skill with those things. When will you be bringing these students, and what are they like?”

“Let’s see.  There’s the one you commissioned -”

“I did  _ not _ ... Luca.  You know I dislike that term.”

Luke smiled at the phone.  “And then his closest friends. One’s Ronald Weasley, the other’s Hermione Granger.  And then this Draco Malfoy.”

Luke went on, telling her what he’d managed to gather about all four.  On the other end of the phone, he had no doubt his crew-mate (and, technically, boss) was taking notes.

“Thank you, Luca.”  She had the formal tone on now, the one that said that she was going to hang up.  “I’ll discuss it with the other Mentors in question, and with Maureen.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he assured her.  He didn’t like leaving the school without their protection - even if Doug was there, even if most of his students were good warriors already - for that long.  

“I know you will.  Thank you, Luca.” This time her voice was soft.  “I really do appreciate you doing this.”


	3. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porter is going to be a wizard!  
> But wait, wasn’t he one already?

It was two weeks before classes were supposed to start, but Porter was practicing his porter-ing — nobody else called it that, but he was still going to; it was so much cooler than “dimensional doors” — by redecorating his bedroom in Addergoole from his bedroom at home.

He had just brought in a new hat stand when he heard a knock at the front of the suite he shared, during the year, with Sylvia and Arundel.

Since he was pretty sure the others weren’t back yet, he popped out and opened the door. 

“Professor Solomon!”  His mentor looked the same as always, lanky, with thick glasses Porter was pretty sure he didn’t need and a short-sleeved dress shirt that somehow made the man look even thinner.

He also, as always, looked solemn.  “I was hoping that I’d find you here. May I come in?”

“Of course.  Enter and be welcome, Professor Solomon.”  He bowed deeply, with a flourish, and stepped out of the way.  “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

“Been watching movies again, have you?  The classics?”

“All the classics, of course.”  Porter doffed his hat and gestured at the couch and armchair in their suite’s little living room.  “Have a seat, have a sat. Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.  Here, sit down.”

Porter sat on the couch while his Mentor sat down in the armchair — a better choice, since Porter’s crew-mate Arundel could be rough on upholstery.  

“So.”  Professor Solomon cleared his throat.  “I’m here because Luca and Regine — that is, Luke and the Director — have asked if your crew would take part in an exchange program of a sort.”

“Exchange program?”  Porter leaned forward.  “I thought that Addergoole was the only school of its kind.”

“It is.”  Professor Solomon cleared his throat.  “However, ah. All right, I am going to give you a bit of Ellehemaei history that we don’t often talk about, and I’m going to ask you not to discuss it with anyone outside of your crew or other exchange students.”

“Of course, sir.”  Porter raised his eyebrows in an expression he’d been practicing.  “Is there any part of Ellehemaei history that we  _ do _ talk about?”

“Oh, bits and pieces here and there.”  At least the Professor was smiling now, although the expression was short-lived.  “So. Ahem. There exists a faction of the Ellehemaei that holds itself apart from — well, all of the rest.  They use magic differently than we use Workings; they have found a way to forestall or get rid of the Change except in certain ‘allowed’ instances, although doing so has shortened their lifespans; and they engage in somewhat stereotypical ‘wizarding’ behaviours.  They have, however, perfected magical items to a far greater extent than the Ellehemaei world as a whole has. 

“Their split happened around the time of the Norman Invasion  - Laurel, Professor Valerian, would be able to tell you more about this.  They live in a way that is, in many senses, stuck in that era, and don’t engage much in ‘muggle’ or ‘no-maj’ - that would be human or Faded in our definition - technology, pop culture, or fashion.”  He cleared his throat. “In other words, we’re asking the three of you, and one other student that we’re negotiating about, to enter Merlin’s castle - more or less - and learn to use magic wands. The theory is that you will be a bit of an ace in the hole when they have some troubles with their, ah, ‘Dark Lord,’ because you have magic that the ‘wizarding world’ knows nothing about.”

“So we get to be wizards?”  Porter raised his eyebrows. “Cool.  But, Professor, why?”

Professor Solomon cleared his throat.  “Well. In her infinite wisdom, Regine chose to engage someone involved in that world in our project, and now four of their students - they’re a bit younger than you, probably about fifteen, but their school starts at eleven and runs through age eighteen - are coming here.  And because they are having that trouble that I mentioned, their Headmaster is a little reluctant to allow them to go.”

“He’s not their parent, is he?  Or their Mentor?”

“They do not - they do not think by those rules, although they’re still bound by them to some extent.  No. But I think when Luke was doing the negotiating-”

Porter coughed.  “Luke? Not the Director or Professor VanderLinden? Sir?”  He had this feeling Luke did most of his negotiating with a fist.

Possibly with a foot, too.

“Luke.  Yes. I think that he felt that the young man actually chosen by the project might be more comfortable if he had friends around him.  I know, I know. We don’t normally think about things like  _ comfort _ and we don’t normally let people bring their friends to Addergoole.  But, as far as we know, most of our students’ friends are humans, and this young man’s friends - they’re not.”

“You know,” Porter mused.  “I think we should. Let people bring human friends to Addergoole.”

Professor Solomon coughed.  “Porter, don’t you think that could - ah. Don’t you think that could have some negative unforeseen consequences?”

“Well, we just have to foresee them first.  And let’s see. Can’t be Kept. Can’t be held to a promise.  And then we have support groups around - the people who had friends, at least.  You don’t have to go into a strange place where you have to keep secrets from the friends you  _ did _ have at home… anyway.”  The look on the Professor’s face told Porter he probably should get back on topic.   He cleared his throat. “So let’s see. Four people from this ‘wizarding’ - really?”

“Really.”

“’-wizarding’ school are coming here.  And four of us are going there. Our crew… if we say yes… and…?”

“Kyle.  He’s supposed to be a first-year student here this fall, but he is Lady Maureen’s son, and spent most of his life in the Village.  Therefore, as long as we can force his Change before you leave, he should be a good fourth, and he’d be able to stay an extra year after the rest of you - since the four students will be staying here for the whole four-years of their term.”

“That all makes sense.  But uh, Professor. What about the -” Porter lowered his voice to a whisper, despite the fact that they were in the suite and nobody could overhear them “- _ graduation requirements?” _

“Hem.  Well, Regine has offered the following - she’ll waive half of the ‘graduation requirements’ but ask you to stay one more year total.  That is, you’ll do one year at Hogwarts - two in Kyle’s case - and then return here to finish your schooling, for a total of five years of school.”

Porter leaned back.  “She must really want us to do this.”

“It is very rare that we have a chance to get an ‘in’ with the ‘wizarding world.’  While I’m not certain this was the best way to go about it, Director Avonmorea certainly has gotten something of a coup with this inter-school exchange.  Which it’s why it’s your crew we’re asking to go.”

“What, and not Sharp Edges or the trouble twins?” Porter smiled. “Why not Boom, Professor?”

“I think you know the answer to that. But the ‘legal’ answer is that they’re too old. This school runs 11 to 17, unlike ours. And Boom-”

“Oh.  They’re all overage.  Also,” Porter couldn’t help but laugh, “they might blow the place up.”

“Exactly.  Now.” Professor Solomon cleared his throat. “Assuming the rest of your crew is interested in going, may I assume that you are willing to attend Hogwarts?”

“With a name like that,” Porter practiced a little hat-dip he’d been working on, “how could a fella say no?”


	4. Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you have to do is not say things very loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, well, ahem, this was going to be every Monday, but then Christmas Break happened. So here, have two chapters?

When it came time to talk to Narcissa Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore found himself glad that the Malfoys were an old-blood family - and, specifically, that the Blacks were an old-blood family. 

That meant that he could introduce the matter as “The fae have called in a marker” and Narcissa merely paled and raised one aristocratic eyebrow. 

He did play a little with the truth, suggesting that the fae had wanted Draco specifically, but there was much to be said for playing to the arrogance of a woman like Narcissa. “But, of course, as you are his mother, the fae will do nothing without your approval.”

“Where is this school?”  Her voice was tight. She was leaning a little bit towards him, despite holding herself straight-backed and rigid.  

“In America.  It’s warded, I’ve been led to understand, and very well protected.”

“Draco would be safe there?”

“I cannot guarantee his safety from the threats that the new school may pose, or threats from other students or the environment.  As I understand it, they have winters in that portion of America which are nothing at all like even a proper Scottish winter-”

“Professor Dumbledore.”  The woman’s voice was a crack of pain.  “You know what I mean.”

His voice gentled. “I am absolutely certain that Voldemort will not be able to reach him there, Mrs. Malfoy.  He will be outside of the man’s reach completely, for the length of time it takes him to complete his schooling there.”

“Four years, you said.”

“Four years.  Which is a blink of an eye and an eternity.  You may wish to visit him during the summers.  You may even wish - as I hear another student’s godfather is going to - to reside in the town near the school, visiting here only to handle business.  Although it would be a fae town, not a wizarding one, I must emphasize. I’m not certain just how much you know about the fae -”

“I know enough.”  Her answer was cool, as if he had challenged her.  Albus smiled and spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

“Then certainly consider it.  You wouldn’t be allowed to interfere in Draco’s schooling, of course, but he would be able to visit you - and you, too, would be within this school’s wards.”

“But… But Lucius....”  She sighed. 

“Dear - pardon me, Mrs. Malfoy - if you and Draco pack your bags right now, then all is left is to write Mr. Malfoy a letter.  Let him rail at me. If he misses you, I will make certain he can visit you - in America.”

He did not need to even hint at all the things he was leaving unsaid.  Narcissa Malfoy was both a very clever woman and one very good with words.  He had probably said more than he really ought to, as it was. 

She stood up.  “I will pack our bags.  Miffy!” A house-elf, clad impeccably in a very tidy tea-towel and doily combination, appeared beside the woman. “Pack my trunk for an extended stay.  Tell Teshy to do the same for Draco. And send someone to get Draco down here.”

The house-elf vanished.  Narcissa smiled at Albus.  “Another cup of tea?”

He remembered what she had been like as a student and wondered, not for the first time, what she would have done in a different family. “Yes, please.  Although I don’t imagine your elves will take long at all.”


	5. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and friends - and Draco - are on their way to the mysterious Addergoole!

Right up until the moment Mr. Hunting-Hawk picked them up, Harry had been expecting Dumbledore to find some reason they couldn’t go to America.  But there he was, a week before Hogwarts was due to start, striding into the great hall. 

He must have been using some sort of Disillusionment, because he didn’t have wings.  It left Harry free to look at the man — a stern nose like a Roman patrician, reddy-brown skin, and black hair that was cut short and efficient.  Jeans again, like he gave not a fig for robes and the way all the British wizards hated Muggle clothing. 

He had four muggle students with him — three boys and a girl, as if they had matched their group on purpose.  The girl was shy-looking, the boys all smiles. 

“Do you have any advice for each other?”  Dumbledore looked pointedly at Harry.

What was he supposed to tell them?  Don’t let the Dark Lord kill people?

Ron cleared his throat.  “Hold your friends close, mate.” He was speaking to the lanky boy with the wild grin.  “No matter what. You hold ‘em close and you have their back.”

Hermione cleared her throat.  “With study, everything will make sense.   But you have to pay attention and you have to  _ really understand the material _ .” 

The girl seemed to really perk up at that.  She stepped forward a bit. “Is there any book in particular—?”

“Well, definitely start with  _ Hogwarts, A History.   _ But I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will be willing to let you into the restricted section…”

“Honestly.”  Draco had been doing his best to pretend he wasn’t there, but it didn’t seem that he could keep it up indefinitely.  “If you intend on boring her to death, you might as well save the rest of us and just curse her now.”

Harry cleared his throat and stepped forward.  He had been thinking about what Ron had said - and what  _ ‘ _ Mione had said, although in a completely different way - and been chewing on what he could tell these strangers. 

“Trust your professors.”  He cleared his throat again.  “But. Trust yourself the most.  Sorry, Professor Dumbledore-”

“Oh, no, my boy, don’t be.  That is very good advice indeed.”

“It’s drivel,” Draco complained.  “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means-” Hermione began.  But the boy with the curly brown hair took a step forward and bowed, doffing a hat, to Hermione.  “All due respect, but we understand it completely. Thank you.”

“So what about the four of you?”  Mr. Hunting-Hawk looked among his students.  He was smiling. Harry wondered what  _ he _ was hiding.  “Anything to share with the new students?”

They shared a few looks.  Then the girl pointed out, carefully, “Not all of them have gone yet.”

“Yes, yes.” Dumbledore laughed heartily.  “Draco, why don’t you share your wisdom with our friends from across the pond?”

Draco looked startled.  Startled, and the plotting.  “Slytherin is the best house, of course.”  He flapped his hand, and then shifted, sudden as a snake.  “And be sure to join only the  _ right _ groups.  You don’t want to end up being tarred for bad companions.  Trust me.”

It was all arrogant Draco, and Hermione and Ron were already sputtering, but he looked so  _ serious _ and so  _ intent _ that Harry found himself peering.  Was he up to something? Or was he honestly warning the other students?

“I could say the same to you.”  The curly-haired boy smiled brightly.  “Watch your friends, keep ‘em close, and, like the gentleman said,” he gestured at Ron, “hold your friends dear.  As long as you’ve picked good ones.”

“Pay attention to your Mentor.”  The girl spoke very quietly. “They will tell you things that you won’t learn in class.  But make sure that you’re  _ listening _ .  Because some of it won’t be what you think they’re saying.”

The one that had been hovering near her stepped up, as if protecting her.  “Watch out who you’re friends with,” he told them seriously. “There’s a lot of snakes that seem like nice people until you owe them one too many favors.  And absolutely make sure to be careful  _ who _ you owe favors to.”

The redhead tilted his head, looking amused.  He had darker red hair than the Weasleys, almost wine-colored, and a mysterious smile.  “Never show all your cards. Always keep an ace in the hole.”

“Very good, Very good.”  Dumbledore’s eyes were sparkling.  “Come on, come on then. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy.  Off you go with Mr. Hunting-Hawk, and do take good care of them, sir. I expect to receive an owl from them at least once every other month to inform their families and dear ones what is going on with them.  And Miss Sylvia, Mr. Arundel, Mr. Porter, and Mr. Kyle, this way, please. We’re going to introduce you to your tutors.”

“This way.”  Mr. Hunting-Hawk escorted them down the long hallway.  “Dumbledore says you’ve got a couple ways of long-distance travel.”

“Of course,” Draco sneered.  “How else would we get places?”

There was a sudden breeze and Mr. Hunting-Hawk’s wings were visible again.  “Usually I fly.”

Harry enjoyed, for a moment, the look of horror and confusion on Draco’s face.  “You can’t - that’s not - what - I mean-”

Hermione, in what might have been a moment of pity for Draco but was probably just knowledge overflowing and bubbling out, had actually raised her hand, although she dropped it quickly as she began talking.  “There’s Apparition, which is self-directed movement from one location to another without moving through the intervening space or time. There’s the Floo system, which requires knowing the address of your location and having an available Floo-connected fireplace.  And there are portkeys, which will transport anyone who grasps them to a pre-arranged destination. However, if wizards wish to fly, we need to use a broom or a spell.”

Mr. Hunting-Hawk smiled. “Yes.  As far as I’m aware, most wizards don’t have wings.  ‘Course, most fae can’t just - what did you call it? - apparate.”

“Most?”  She leaned forward like she was trying to take notes.

“Most.  Because of your wards, we’re going to have to wander a bit this way.  Do you all have everything?” He looked over them critically. “You look a little under-packed.”

“Shrinking charms,” Rob offered cheerfully.  “Hermione’s the best at them. All of our luggage all folded down into these.”  He gestured at the “trunks” the three of them had brought, about the size and shape of a breadbox.

“Likewise,” Malfoy drawled, showing off his leather luggage.  He still had three times as much as any of them, but that, Harry supposed, was just what you could expect from someone like him. 

“Ha.”  Mr. Hunting-Hawk grinned at them. “Clever kids.  All right, this way, though you know it better than I do.  Past the wards.”

“Oh, I can show you, sir.  I know exactly where they end-”

“Do you have to be such a kiss-up,” Draco drawled.  “Even to the  _ porter _ ?”

“Seriously,” Harry cut in, “do you have to insult  _ everyone _ ?  Or is it just strangers?”

“I thought you’d figured it out by now, Potter.  I only insult people that aren’t worth my while.”

“Oh, really?”  Mr. Hunting-Hawk’s voice was suddenly very low and very dangerous.  “And why wouldn’t I be worth your while, kid?”

“Well you’re — well.  The wings. You’re a  _ creature _ .”

Harry held his breath.  He reached out to Ron and Hermione and pulled them both back.  He wanted to  _ see _ this, but he didn’t want to be too close to it.

“I’m going to make your life easier, kid, by telling you this.  Once. If you call me a creature again, I will fly you up into the tallest tree I can find and I will  _ leave you there _ .  Without that little stick you do magic with.”  His voice was short and tense. “What’s more, you’d better wipe that attitude from your mind damn quickly, because if you pull that shit with the other students, they will hang you out to dry, and the security might be a little slow getting there.  Now.” There was a dangerous rumble in his voice. “I know you’re British and you do things differently, and I know you’re  _ wizards _ and you do things differently, so I’m going to remind you all of this once.   You’re leaving the wizarding world.  You’re coming in to my world.”

Harry swallowed.  The affable guy was suddenly very terrifying.  Draco took a step backwards. "My father..."

"Nobody in the fae world gives a shit about your father, kid.  I'd learn to start saying  _ my mother _ pretty fast, because there you're Draco sh'Narcissa and her name is the only one that matters.  Got it?"

"I..."

Before Draco could come up with a proper answer - Harry was still trying to figure out if that meant that he was, what, what was that sh'?  Harry sh'Lily? Or, please no, Harry sh'Petunia? - Mr. Hunting Hawk turned back to Hermione. "Now, Hermione." He pronounced her name without a single stumble.  "You said you knew where the wards ended. Could you show me, please?"

"Oh.  Yes, yes of course sir.  Can you tell me about that sh'?  Is it like ni or ap? That is, does it indicate daughter or son-"

"I know how most patronyms work," he told her gently.  He made a gesture suggesting she move forward and, galvanized, she did.  "Sh' is short for 'shenera' and it means 'child of'. It's always going to be your mother.  Fae law puts all parental rights in the mother's hands. So you'd be, Hermione sh'-"

"Jeannine," Hermione filled in.  "That sounds much nicer than 'Granger'."

"Maybe for you, you no-name mudblood, but why would I want to give up  _ my _ name?"  Despite the rage quickly filling him, Harry thought there was something weird about Draco's complaint.

He saved it for later.  He picked Draco up by the front of his shirt.  "Say that word one more time," he snarled. "I dare you."

There was a look most akin to concern on Draco's face, which was replaced by a surprising look of defeat.  "I suppose to the fae," he muttered, "we're all mud."

Harry put him down carefully on the ground.  "Good enough. 'Mione?"

"We're almost there.   I don't know anything about the fae at all.  I looked and looked, but there wasn't a single book in the library..."

"There wouldn't be."  Mr. Hunting-Hawk's smile was grim-looking.  He reminded Harry somehow of Remus Lupin, sad and grim, even though he looked much younger.  "When the wizarding world and the fae split-"

" _ Those  _ fae?"  Ron's voice reached up into a squeak.  "Oh, bugger this - sorry, sir - but the  _ fae _ -"

"Oh, and which fae did you think they were, Weasley?  The happy fuzzy sort that do your cobbling?"

"Shove off, Draco.  It's not like you've been doing great on appropriate knowledge here either," Harry snarled.

"Here we are!"  Hermione pointed at a series of rocks in a seemingly random pattern.  "Here's the barrier. It's meant to be very hard to see from the outside and not too easy to see from the inside, you see."

"I see."  Mr. Hunting-Hawk smiled patiently at Hermione.  "All right. Now-" He checked his watch. "If you boys can keep from killing each other for three minutes, we wait."

"What if we can't?"  Harry didn't even know why he'd asked that; it was a stupid question and not the sort of thing you should ask a grown-up, but Mr. Hunting-Hawk was unlike any other grown-up he'd met, including the centaurs, the Minister of Magic, and the goblins. 

"If you can't, I'll have to keep you from it, and my methods are rough.  I don't use a wand, either." There was something dangerous in his voice that seemed at odds with the way he'd been with Hermione just seconds before.  "So boys, keep three feet or more from each other, keep those wands holstered, and keep the insults to things that aren't racial slurs. Got it?"

_ Racial _ slurs.  Harry took note again of Mr. Hunting-Hawk's brown-red skin and black hair. Did he - was he - how did you even ask?   _ Harry,  _ Hermione, a third of their class, they were all darker than white one way or another.  But not like Mr. Hawk. 

He cleared his throat instead.  "No racial slurs. Got it. Got it, Malfoy?"

He thought that Malfoy looked a little worried.  "Got it." He managed to find one thing in the otherwise empty area to lean on and proceeded to wait as if he was posing for a photo shoot. 

Harry looked at Ron.  Ron pointedly looked away from Malfoy.  Hermione looked at both of them and huffed. 

"Fae."  Mr. Hunting-Hawk looked at Hermione, ignoring all three boys as if they were all equally useless.  "The word fae use for themselves is Ellehemaei. El-LEH-hem-ay-ee-i." The last three vowel sounds rolled around somehow as if they were one sound and three.  "All it means it 'people from Ellehem,' and that's a long story that we don't have time for right now. Some of them look like me. The wings, at least. Some of them have tails and horns-"

"Demons," Hermione whispered. "And angels?"

"We've been called worse, yeah.  Don't worry about it, but don't go thinking any of us are from heaven or hell.  We've just got some magic powers, like you kids do. Then there's a lot of fae that look like - well, if you've read a myth about it and somewhere there were human features involved, there's probably a fae who looks like that."

"Centaurs?" Hermione whispered. 

"Carti's in the year ahead of you kids."

"Mermaids?"

"We had a merman."

Harry leaned forward.  "Goblins?" he murmured. 

"Don't let Akatil hear you call him- Sheba."

Standing in front of them, suddenly and with no warning at all, was a brunette girl a few years older than them.  She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that declared  _ Here, Kitty Kitty _ , no shoes, and Harry was certain he'd seen a tail for a moment.  She bowed to them, ignoring that all four of the wizarding students had pointed their wands at her.  "Your carriage - well, me - awaits. These the kids, Luke?"

"These are them.  Come on, don't curse the nice lady who's saving you airfare.  Take my hands, kids. We're going home."

Mr. Hunting-Hawk only had the normal number of hands, but Harry, feeling brave, took one of the wing-tips that was offered, and Hermione took the other.  The tip had a very firm claw at the end of it, at least as long as Harry’s index finger, and then firm but more flexible-seeming wing-struts connected b something that seemed like nothing as much as it seemed like blue leather.  Harry held on carefully, not wanting to damage anything and not wanting to put that sharp claw-tip through his hand. That left Draco and Ron to take the man’s actual hands, and then the pretty woman - girl - Harry wasn’t sure. University student?  Didn’t they usually wear shoes? Except Luna, he supposed - her name was Sheba, anyway - she stepped up in front of Mr. Hawk, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in - down, she was taller than him by a couple inches - and kissed his cheek. 

Harry gaped.  Hermione squeaked.  And then, just like that, they weren’t where they were.  They were moving very very very fast, or possibly the world was moving around them, and then, with a sensation of ghosting through a wall, they were standing in an ornate hallway on very soft carpet. 

“Welcome to Addergoole, kids.”  Mr. Hunting-Hawk released Ron and Draco’s hands, and quickly, not wanting to offend, Harry dropped the wing-tip .  “We’ll get you settled in and tomorrow someone will show you around.”  With a little push at the air and a matching wing-flap, Luke urged them down the hallway. 

_ Not the most welcoming welcome, _ Harry thought, but then Sheba was taking his hand and aiming a  **_very_ ** welcoming smile at him.  He didn’t even mind that she was holding Draco’s hand with her other.  At least, not much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, in apology for another long gap, you get a nice loooong chapter. Also, Sheba is my favorite character in all of Adder-verse for Reasons, so be nice :-)


	6. Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke visits one of Addergoole’s new guests.

The students had been settled in a private wing, down on the third floor, in their temporary housing.  There were dozens of things that had to be handled with them, starting with “you probably don’t want to wear robes” and ending with “if you call people mudbloods or beasts, you are going to die, kid,” but if Luke tried to say any of them right now, he was seriously going to strangle the blonde kid, and possibly the redhead along with him.  And then maybe the other two, just because he was that angry.

He left them to Sheba - who had offered to stick around for at least an hour - and stalked off to find out how their adults were doing in the Village.  Neither adult had told the child they were related to that they were coming which, well, Luke wasn’t one to bitch about adults lying to children. At least, not when he wasn’t feeling stupidly hypocritical. 

The two cottages were near the back of the Village, in a more isolated end of a small road.  Still, he noticed that he passed DJ - who lived much closer to the front of the Village - on his way to the end of Elm Street. 

He knocked on the nearer one first.  That was going to be the easier visit, from everything he’d heard. 

The man that answered the door looked slightly morose, definitely wizard-y (he was still wearing a robe, although it came to his knees and he had jeans on underneath), and was aiming his wand at Luke. 

“I don’t point guns at you,” Luke growled.  “Don’t point that thing at me.”

The wand vanished into a holster.  “Not used to people knocking,” he muttered.  His eyes were scanning the road behind Luke. “Not used to being-”

“Safe?” Luke gestured behind him. “Nobody here knows who you were back in the Wizarding World. Nobody cares. We don’t follow Wizarding Law here. Hell, most of us have almost no idea what it even is. We have a hard enough time following human-”

“Muggle,” the man muttered. “Come on in. How’s Harry?”

“He’s going to strangle that friend of his, the blonde one.”  Luke stepped into the small cottage and let his wing close the door behind him with a thump.  He didn’t know why it pleased him a little to see the man jump at the thump. 

“Blonde? Oh, that’s not a friend. That’s Draco Malfoy. Most obnoxious git I ever had the pleasure of not killing.  Funny, why’d Harry bring him along?” He headed into the small social are of the cottage and flopped into a chair, gesturing to a low-backed second chair for luke. 

“Seems it was his teacher’s idea - Dumbledore?  Think I remember that one from the last time you guys were having trouble with some evil wizard.” Luke sat, arranging his wings.  

“You make it sound like cicadas or something,” the man complained.  

“To us, sometimes it seems that way.  Remember, I was born around the time of - you probably don’t know the American Revolution, do you?”

“Muggle stuff.”  The man flapped his hand.  “So, what am I supposed to do here?  Dumbledore thought it was a good idea, but if all I’m going to do is sit in a house, I could do that back in my own awful house.”

“What do you like to do? What are you good at?”

Luke was not expecting the laugh, bitter and short. “Making trouble, mostly. Hi. I know you have some idea who I am -”

“Harry Potter’s godfather. Sirius Black, I believe?”

“That’s my name. Yep. And you’re Mr. Hunting-Hawk. But the thing is, I was in jail - in wizarding jail, and I don’t know what fae jail is like, but wizarding jail is torture - for the last eleven years, and since then I’ve been on the run. I’m good at not dying, I suppose, at cursing things that get in my way. I don’t know.” He threw up his hands. “We were fighting a war, I was in jail, and then we were fighting a war again. I haven’t had time to be *good* at anything but trouble!”

Luke let his wings stretch out while he thought about the man he’d brought into his village. “Two people you ought to talk to,” he decided after a moment.  “Lady Maureen. She runs Mau’s Tavern. She’ll be there once in a while. And my son, Doug. I’ll send him over to you.” He patted the man on the shoulder. “Let yourself have a break. There will always be war, after all. So breathe for a few days first.”


	7. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s always fun to go shopping for wands, right?

“Come this way, children. There is a week and three days until school officially starts. In that time, we will need to acclimate you to the wizarding world sufficiently to ‘pass’ as foreign exchange students and to teach you enough wand magic that you will be able to keep up in your classes.”

The woman leading them through the halls was mildly terrifying, in a “coolly efficient” sort of way. Also, Porter could not remember the last time that he had been referred to in any group as “children.”  He thought it was probably before he had gone to Addergoole, at the very least. 

“What does that entail?” Sylvia, of course, was brave enough to ask questions.  Arundel probably would be, too, except he was poking the walls of the castle in a thoughtful way and shifting in a manner that suggested he was wiggling his wings under his Mask. 

“It’s going to be a week of very intensive classes.  I am going to suggest that you attempt to pass yourself as muggle-born - ah, in America that is no-maj-born Americans who have been going to a magical school for the last several years.  As that is not too far from the truth, it should avoid there being problems. And,”

The professor turned around and aimed a very, very pointed look at all four of them.  Her voice dropped down a notch. 

“Listen to me, children.  There will be a professor here that you will not meet any more than I can absolutely not avoid.  You will not tell her that you are fae, regardless of the questions she asks or what she seems to know.  You are exchange students. Nothing more. Understand?”

Kyle started laughing.  Not just a snort, but a chuckle, a little snide and a lot too loud.

Porter was not the first one to turn to glare at him, but he was probably the second - and then it was all of them, Professor McGonagall included.  

Kyle squirmed.  “Sorry.” He looked down and looked so genuinely abashed that Porter lost his irritation as quickly as it had come.  “Sorry. I mean, well. It just feels like home. I know, I wasn’t even an Addergoole student yet, but ‘don’t tell anyone anything?’  That’s so much like home.”

The professor coughed.  “Yes. Yes, well. I’m sure the four of you will get this idea down pat very quickly then.  So. The Ministry has seen fit to send us a teacher, and when you encounter Professor Umbridge, you are exchange students.  If she knows that you are - ah. That you are fae, there will be trouble. Now, we will not speak of this again. The first thing that we must do if take you to Diagon Alley to properly outfit you, as you cannot learn wand magic without wands.  You will also need robes and school supplies. So come this way. I imagine, since you traveled here using the - using your school’s variation on apparition, that the Floo will not be too strange for you.”

“The.. flue?” Sylvia had a look on her face like the world was personally offending her. She often had that expression, but it seemed to be taking up permanent residence since they had learned of wand-magic, wizards, and this strange school.

“The Floo. It’s a method of travel that all wizards can use. This way, we’ll go from my office.” She led the way, head held high, into her very spacious, comfortable-looking office. A fire was lit in the fireplace there, flickering merrily away.

This whole place, Potter reflected, was more like a movie than anything he’d seen, and he’d spent the last year in a school for magical faeries. He had, under the glamour called a Mask he wore in public (and strange castles), tiger ears and hair striped to match and he could open doors that weren’t there into places that weren’t on the other side of the wall.  Or floor. Or ceiling.

This place made all that look mundane.

“Now, you simply say - clearly - the name of the place you wish to go, and toss a bit of this powder into the flames, then step through. The place is Diagon Alley.” Her pronunciation became crisp and clear. “Like thus. I’ll go through, and then you follow.”

She took a pinch of powder and tossed it into the flames. They flared up and changed colors and she stepped right into the flames repeating “Diagon Alley.”

Arundel, fearless (of course), imitated the woman’s actions; he vanished into the flames.

Much to Porter’s surprise, it was the strange new Kyle who went next. He glanced over at Sylvia.

“I will go next,” she informed him.  Her voice had a slightly edgy quality, brittle and quiet.  He thought she was probably frightened. 

Mentioning it wouldn’t help anything, so Porter nodded.  “Makes sense. I’ll come right after you.”

Stepping through the “Floo” after her was nothing like one of his doors.  It felt like being twisted up and then untwisted. Porter stumbled, made it a dance step, and bowed, his hat coming off perfectly into his hand. 

Arundel, who could always be counted on, applauded. 

Porter grinned.  “That - that was something.  I think, well.” He remembered that they weren’t in private anymore.  “I could do that again.”

“Wands first,” Professor McGonagall declared.  “That can take a while.” She herded them into a small store labelled Ollivander’s Wands.

Inside, a white-haired man in an untidy cravat stood surrounded by long narrow pasteboard boxes.  He was wearing, in addition to the cravat, a long robe that was fitted to elbows and hips before splitting outwards, over trousers in a paisley that matched his cravat. 

“Ah, Minerva.  How can I help you?”

“These four are in interesting case, Garrick, and I’m going to have to ask for your secrecy.  Sylvia first, I believe. Garrick, this is Sylvia, a-”

“Oh, oh! I see.”  The old man’s eyes widened.  “I do see. And wanting a wand.  This will be interesting, interesting indeed.  Here, here, wait here. I have some special wands.  I’ll be right back. Right back…”

He clambered up a ladder with surprising grace, up and up until he was standing above their heads.  When he came down, a bunch of boxes were fluttering around his head like square butterflies. 

“Now, let’s see, let’s see.  Here, try this one first. I think it might help with some of the more, ah, interesting, parts of your nature.”

After Sylvia tried out seven wands, the wand-maker found one that he approved of.  Then it was Arundel’s turn, and with wide eyes, the man went scampering back up the ladder coming down with one that he said had a core of giant storm petrel wingfeather.  It was, he declared proudly, nine and one-half inches long and made out of ash heartwood. 

How the man was seeing  _ them _ , them and their Changes (storm petrel?), when they were all clearly Masked — Porter checked — was, well, that was amazing and a little frightening.  He’d have to find a time to ask Professor McGonagall about that.

Potter flicked through nine wands while the man grew ever more excited.  Finally, chuckling, he pulled out a wand with striping of dark and light wood.  “Tigerwood,” he chuckled. “Just a bit over nine inches long. This wand’s core is hippogriff tail hair, which, let me tell you, was a challenge.  Try it.”

Porter flicked and swished the way he’d been doing.  A woosh of warm air danced across the shop, knocking Porter’s hat off and making everyone else’s hair momentarially stand on end.  “Very good, very good. I do love an interesting challenge, and the four of you, yes, indeed, you are an interesting challenge. Of course, I would be careful.  Wand magic and ah, other sorts do not always mix, and they can cause some quite amazing difficulties. Oh, this is quite interesting indeed! And you, young man.”

Kyle took a step back and looked, for the first time, nervous.  “Ah?”

“Oh, I see.”  The wandmaker took off his glasses and peered at Kyle.  “Ah. Minerva, a word, if you would?”

The four “children” shared a look as the two adults bustled off to a corner. 

“What did I do?”  Kyle looked at Porter, then over to Arundel, and then to Sylvia, before looking back at Porter.  “What-?”

Porter shrugged, trying as best as he could to indicate ignorance without seeming gruff.  “It’s probably some wand thing?” he guessed. “After all, you haven’t been here long enough to break any rules, and you weren’t even  _ at _ Addergoole, so you can’t have broken any of their rules.”

“I was born there, though.”  Kyle shrugged. “Spent my whole life in the Village until just two years ago. That’s why they picked me, you know.  I know about our world, and I’m young enough to do their world for two years and be sort of a bridge. I guess? I mean, if I don’t piss off everyone here before we even get going.”

Porter studied him.  “You’re the one that said to keep your cards close to your chest.”

“I did.  And I plan on keeping most of them.  But you can’t be dancing around all of the    
“home” things here when we’re dancing around everyone else, and I know how it is in Addergoole.  Everything’s a dance.”

Porter used one of the gestures he’s been practicing all summer to tip his hat, just the slightest bit, to the younger boy.  “True and true. So then-”

“I’m quite sorry for the delay.”  The two adults came bustling back.  “So, Mr. - ah. Foxglove?”

“It works.”

Ollivander seemed to think that was a strange thing to say about a last name, not that Porter didn’t agree, but he kept going.  “Am I to understand that you haven’t, as the fae would say, Changed?”

“What? Oh, you mean how he has -” he made a gesture like wings.  “No, not yet. Why?”

“That is unfortunate.  You need to understand, there are several things in the wizarding world that have a strong chance of suppressing those things that make you Change and, with that Change, your ability to use magic as a fae.  One of those is the use of a wand before your Change. Now.” He looked at Porter, then his gaze slid to Arundel and Sylvia. “I have a feeling that in your world, you have ways to precipitate this thing. I suggest that you do all you can in the next week, or you may be dooming your friend here to a life far more boring than your own.”

Porter couldn’t help it, he coughed.  “‘May you live in interesting times,’” he quoted.  “I’m not sure that Kyle would think it was all that dooming.  Not going back to Addergoole-”

“I’d miss Adrie,” Sylvia murmured.  “If we never went back. Or if she’d never been born.”

“I’d miss flying,” Arundel offered.  “Come on, Porter, don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“Forget that.” Kyle snorted.  “If you have to drop me off a building to shake my Change out of me, you have my permission. Have you met my mother?  She would tear this place down to find me and  _ then _ she would yell at me, and that would only be the first day.”

“Adrie?” Professor McGonnagal didn’t miss anything. 

“Oh.  My daughter.”  Sylvia smiled sadly.  “I didn’t like leaving her behind, but she is safer there, and there’s no place at Hogwarts for kids, as far as I know.  But it looks like she’ll be an only child now, the way things have changed.”

“An only - what are you talking about, my dear?”


	8. Minerva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prof. McGonagall gives Albus a piece of her mind. And she has quite a bit of it to give.

Minerva McGonagall was furious, and it was showing in every thin line on her face and every muscle of her wiry body. 

Today, this evening, the target of her anger was her boss, at least in name. 

“Albus Dumbledore!”  She had not bothered with a password and the gargoyle had not asked for one.  “This place that you have sent the children. This place that these children we are supposed to teach have come from…!  Do you know what it is that they do?”

“I have heard several things, yes.”  Albus looked tired. “I’m afraid I had no choice but to send Harry there.  The fae measure things differently than we do. And I’m afraid that it may have, in all honesty, been the better choice for him.  He may be safer there, in the arms of the fae, in their bunker, than he ever could be here, with the Death Eaters on our very doorstep and the Ministry turned against him.”

“But Albus! That child - that child!  She is barely an adult in any manner of measurement, and she speaks easily about having her first child -  **_missing_ ** her first child because she left the wee girl back in the States!  And it turns out - I believe, it’s very hard to tell because they speak like they’ve taken a Wand Oath not to say anything…”

“Which they have.  And yes.” Albus sighed.  “You likely can look forward to some Potter children far sooner than you anticipated.  That is part of what Lily signed Harry up for, after all.”

“Albus, how  _ could _ she?  What could she have been thinking?”

“Well, I imagine she was thinking that it was another way to thumb their noses at Voldemort.  After all, in all his consideration of ‘pure-blood’ matters, he never did seek to consult the fae, who might have had quite a few words to say on the matter.  The pure-blooded have always had a bit of a blind spot when it comes to fae, much as they do when it comes to ‘magical creatures’ and the like. ‘Magical creatures,’” he huffed. “As if a centaur and a pixie ought to be classified in the same manner!”

“Albus.”  Minerva was not to be put off.  “Albus, Miss Granger!”

“Ah.”   Albus found himself smiling.  “Indeed. Miss Granger, you see - her parents cannot bind her to the project.  They are not only Muggles, they are not fae. So I do not believe SHE shall be at quite such a risk. 

“But Albus… still.”

“There are things we cannot stop no matter how hard we wish, no matter how hard we try, Minerva, and I would ask you to believe me that I did indeed try.  All I could do was to make sure that he was well-accompanied, that he did not go into this matter on his own.”

“And Mr. Malfoy?”

“Ah.”  Albus looked sadly down at his desk.  “Perhaps I was thinking that this one young man, perhaps, I could take out of the reach of danger.  And Minerva — whatever danger you might believe these young men to be in at Addergoole — as we’ve already ascertained that Miss Granger is not at that risk — it is nothing compared to what they will soon be facing here in Scotland.”

“Albus.”  It was a sigh, an exhalation, barely a word.  Minerva sank into a chair and did not argue further. 


	9. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our lovely protagonists are given a tour by a cat-girl.

Their “temporary accommodations” were a suite of four bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and a living room, far down in the basement of this place (the sub-sub basement? Two levels down after they’d already gone underground, at least) .  Harry had gotten only a short look around as they had been guided down set of stairs after set of stairs - Sheba’s “tour” had been directed by flicks of her tail and had been more like “and there’s the gym. The pool’s through the other side of there, with the hot tubs.  If you didn’t bring swimsuits, they have those in the Store, too.” or “that was my suite, when I went here. Me and Ty, Mags and Phelen, sometimes others.” She’d winked as if that was supposed to mean something to Harry, and he’d smiled back, not wanting to disappoint her and not really sure why.  

Hermione, who always paid more attention to everything, had noticed - or had at least asked - “co-ed suites?”

The sound the cat-girl had made was like she was trying very hard not to laugh.  Her tail lashed for a moment and her eyes fixed on point down the hallway. 

Her lips were moving; Harry could catch -  _ four, five, six _  Wasn’t that supposed to be what people did when they were angry?

When she’d reached ten, she snorted inelegantly.  “Yeah. There’s no real sorting by gender here, at least not outside of the locker rooms and even that can be a bit - ah. Urm.  It can be a bit fuzzy.”

“Is that an American thing?”  Hermione was still sounding very polite.  Maybe  _ she _ didn’t want to disappoint Sheba either. 

“Ha.  No, that’s just an Addergoole thing.  Even my college dorm is still like, mostly sorted out by gender, which is probably locking the barn after the horse is gone or some other folksy saying, but…” She flapped her hand.  “Anyway. That was our suite. I think Arna and her crew have it now. Pity, you four could use a suite like that, but first-years don’t have a lot of a chance.”

“I, ah.”  Harry cleared his throat.  “I don’t think we’d do well sharing.”

“Hardly,” Draco drawled.  “I imagine they’d be more comfortable in a cave or something.  Whereas this place-” he seemed to take in the fancy carpet on the floors, the wood paneling on the walls, the lighting that had to be magical because it seemed to come from nowhere.  “This is almost sufficient to my needs.”

“I’m glad you’re easy to please.”  Sheba raised unimpressed eyebrows at Draco.  “Look, don’t be idiots, and, having been an idiot in my time, I mean that with all sincerity and with kindness.  Don’t. Don’t give in to stupid prejudices and don’t turn down allies.”

“Allies?” Ron scoffed.  “With him? His lot are-”

“Ron.”  Hermione squeezed his hand.  “He’s like us, here, right? That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Sheba, ma’am?”

“Exactly.  What you four have in common seems like nothing right now.  You’re all wizards.” She murmured the word like she didn’t want anyone to overhear it.  “That’s fine. At your old school, everyone was a wizard and I imagine everyone was British.  Here, almost everyone’s American and nobody has ever heard of wizards, or your headmaster, or your Ministry, or any of that.  I’m serious, people. Nobody. Has ever heard. Of anything you just spent your last few years learning. Which, ah. Should prepare you just fine for heading out into a human house and finding out that nobody  has ever heard of fae - but you don’t have human parents, do you? Or human friends?”

“If you mean muggle,” Hermione offered cautiously, “I do.”

“Muggle?  Okay, now you have to tell me what muggle means.  Is that a British thing?” She was walking backwards now down the hallway; Harry wondered if she had some way of telling where she was going, or if she was just that familiar with the place.  It did mean she’d released both his hand and Draco’s, which he felt a little conflicted about.

“How can you not know what a muggle is?” Draco scoffed. 

“Because I’m not a  _ wizard _ ,” she shot back. “You’re going to have to get that through your pretty head quickly, kiddo-”

“Harry,” Ron hissed, “she called him  _ pretty _ !”

“Well,” Hermione added in a similar whisper, judiciously if ill-advisedly, “the Malfoys have always been quite attractive, when you don’t know them.’

“I can hear you just fine, you know,” Draco grumbled.  “What’s wrong with this … pleasant woman… calling me pretty?”

“Because you’ve been a rude git since you met her, that’s what’s wrong with it.  Smile at the lady and be polite,” Harry snarled, not sure why he suddenly cared how Draco acted.  “Do you want her to think all wizards are-”

“I assure you.”  Sheba cut in, smirking at both  - all - of them. “I am not going to judge all of any kind at all on teenagers.  You two have a rivalry, fine. Just don’t kill each other - or anyone else - and try not to burn the place down.  Or bring it down on your heads,” she added thoughtfully. “We almost did that once…’

“Is there a spell that can do that?”  Hermione stepped forward barely missing shoving both Harry and Draco out of the way.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about the slightly smug look Sheba gave his friend this time.  “Not a wizard, remember? I don’t know if there’s a spell to do it but there’s definitely a set of  _ Workings _ that will.  And I’ve said enough about that, so.”  She started walking - backwards again - “who’s going to tell me what a muggle is?”

“They’re called no-majes in the States,” Ron offered.  “Charlie - my older brother - told me. They’re people who aren’t magical.’

“Ah. Humans, or Faded.”  Sheba nodded. Harry was worried; she was walking backwards towards a stairway and didn’t seem to notice.  

“We’re human,” Harry protested.  “We just have magic.”

“And that,” Sheba smiled grimly, “is one of the most interesting lies I have ever heard.  No, I’m not saying you’re lying to me.’ She caught the handrail and started walking backwards down the stairway.  “I’m saying someone lied to you. Which is - again - interesting. Not good, mind you. There’s a lot I find I suddenly want to know about this ‘wizarding world’.  If you’re a wizard, there’s a good chance you’re not human. Now what was I saying - oh. Yeah. Nobody here knows about your wizarding world. I’d suggest you keep it that way.   Two - three - maybe four reasons. It gives you an ace in the hole - a power they don’t know about, since they’re going to expect you to be just like other newbies.” 

She bounced down another stair.  Harry shared a look with his friends and they started following her. 

“It means they  _ do _ expect you to be like the other newbies - this is gonna make it easier to fit in, for one, and for another it means you’re not gonna get extra pressure.  You start taking about how important you are, blondie-”

“My name-”

“-Blonde kid, and someone is going to think that you need to be taken down three or four notches.  That’s two. You’re already different enough, being British. English? No, don’t explain, I won’t remember.  Sorry. So it gives you something....” She hesitated, and then sighed. “It gives you something to hold on to that the older students don’t know about.  It’ll be your little secret. Not that you can wave around a stick, just - just everything you know about your own magic world. Hold onto that. Share it.  Don’t let you rivalries get in the way.” 

“Oy.  You’re a bit bossy, aren’t you?”  Ron wrinkled his nose. Harry huffed at his friend - though he was right, she  _ was _ a bit bossy.

“Yep. Yes, I am.  I’m bossy normally, and I’m trying to get things through your skulls quickly, so I’m not bothering with any niceties. So fourth - I think you’ll like this, miss - because you’re going to be using wand magic and - ah.  Because you’re going to be trained as fae, you are going to be able to learn things nobody else knows. That’s either an asset for you or for someone else.”

“You make it sound like,” Hermione offered slowly, “like people are going to be out to get us.”

“People are going to want you to…”  She took another two steps backwards.  She was running out of stairs. “People are going to want you to be their… friends.  Because you’re first-year, because that’s how it works. So be on your guard.” She jumped backwards and landed on her feet on the floor.  “If I get one thing through to you it’s that. And you, blondie.” She poked her finger in Draco’s direction. “Listen to your fellow wizard people.  Get over yourself. Or someone’s gonna have you bent over and begging in no time at all.”

Harry froze.  He looked at Hermione.  She was pale. He looked at Ron.   _ He _ was so pale his freckles were standing out.  Even Draco looked stunned. 

“Excuse me, did you just-”

“Nope.”  Sheba cut Hermione off with such a cheerful smile it was hard to believe she  _ had  _ just… had she?  “And if you tell anyone I have, I’ll deny it, and they’re more likely to believe me than you.  That way’s the Store. We’ll be going there later. You have store credit. It’s not endless, but it’ll get you anything reasonable you could need.”

“My fath-”  Draco fell quiet before anyone could even call him on it that time  Harry was a little impressed. 

“It’s the same for everyone,” Sheba cut in.  “So whether your parents are rich or poor, you get the same amount of credit.  Sucks for the rich kids I guess - except if you have cash you can bribe people with it, sometimes.”

Harry thought about Galleons and Knuts and considered Draco trying to bribe American muggle students with that.  He barely suppressed a snigger. 

“So that’s the Store,” Sheba repeated.  “Okay, so, the Arcade is here. You  _ will _ get hustled if you try to play pool.  It’s just the way it is.”

“What’s-”

“I’ll show you later,” Harry cut Draco off.  At this rate, they were never going to get to their rooms.

“Hrmph. “

“And down here is the Library and yes, Hermione, I will give you a tour.  Later. After you have settled in. Do _not_ go wandering in the Library alone.  You _will_ get lost.  I am not kidding in the least about this.  You **_will_** be lost and it may be a while before the Librarian finds you.  She’s really clever but she’s not actually omnipresent. Oh, and she’s invisible, but she can most certainly see you.”

“Is she - is she a ghost?” Hermione hazarded. 

“Nope.  No, she’s just invisible.  Possibly intangible, except what I’ve heard about her and Professor Valerian - ahem.  I’ll save the gossip for at least day two, how’s that?”

“There’s an invisible Librarian and that’s NOT the gossip?”  Hermione’s eyes were wide. “Okay.”

“So those are the public things here.  This suite is just for a little bit, until everyone else is getting here, so don’t get too comfortable.”  She turned down a hallways Harry hadn’t even seen - the floors here were less nice, more like a public school in the Muggle world - and opened a door.  “But for the next week, it’s your home.” She gestured them in.

Inside, they found a living room with a kitchenette to one side and three doors leading off of it.  Hermione immediately headed to the left; Draco immediately headed to the right hand door but paused by the kitchen.  “Are we meant to cook our own food then?”

“There’s a dining hall, up on the first floor,” Sheba reassured him.  “But you  _ can _ cook here.  Although, again, don’t get too cozy; the single rooms you get when you’re first-years only have a little kitchenette.”

“Only? Kitchenette?”  Ron looked somewhere between gobsmacked and confused.  

“I’ll explain all the muggle stuff later,” Harry assured him.  “To both of you,” he added to Draco, because Sheba wanted them to get along.

“Thanks,” Ron muttered. 

“Okay.  Look, I’m gonna go check in on some  things. You four get settled, try not to kill each other, and don’t invite anyone in here except me, Luke, or another teacher - you can tell the teachers, generally, because they look older than twenty. Got it?  I’ll be back in an hour or two and we’ll go shopping.”

“Got it.”  Harry nodded.  House arrest again.  Well, at least it didn’t involve the Dursleys.  

She left - not bothering to open the door, he noticed - and Harry decided in the interest of peace, he would take the room closer to Draco rather than making Ron take it.  “Okay. Come on, Wizard-born people, Hermione and I are going to teach you how to live in a muggle house. Well, a fae house that looks muggle? We’re going to start with the stove and the faucets.”


	10. Luke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My, everyone’s irritated.

“We’ll have to test them, we’ll have to make sure they know what they’re doing, and we’re going to have to make sure they can pass as - normal high school kids.”  Luke was ticking things off on his fingers. “Regine, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I was never going to get another opportunity to study the so-called ‘wizards’, that the young lady in question needed a favor that would be easier for me to do than for her to manage, and that it might do us well - in the coming crisis - if indeed it does come - to have allies in different spheres of influence.  These children will have each other -"

"This 'Dumbledore' character saddled us with one kid the other three hate!"  Luke's wings flapped in irritation. 

"And?  We certainly have dealt with children that are unliked by other children before.  This is not going to be a problem, Luke. As for the rest - I will ask Shira and Michael to test them and work on which classes they may need remedial help in.  I will ask - hrrm. Do you think DJ or Maureen? Or possibly Ambrose?"

"Ambrose," Luke decided.  "We can't hold Sheba here too long, and Ambrose is pretty good at faking being a kid.  I mean, you'd need to get his promise not to get a jump start on Keeping one of them, but I'm sure you could get a promise from him without a problem."

Luke wasn't bitter, he was just tired.  Tired of so much of this bullshit.

"Ambrose, then.  Anything else we need to do for them?  Do they need to be shown how to use basic technology?  Light switches, that sort of thing?"

"Well, if they do, I'm sure the blonde one will tell us soon enough. He's demanding enough."  Luke huffed. "I'm starting to think Dumbledore saddled us with him just to get rid of him. Like 'here, you take this one, he's too annoying for words.'"

"Well, that's the hazard of taking more than the one that we originally dealt for.  Not that some of our other students haven't, on occasion, been irritating. Even your students, Luca."

"My cy'ree?  Irritating?" He laughed.  "Never!" He considered Regine.  "You might want the girl. Give it a thought.  After all, it's good for you to take a student once in a while."

"I will consider it."  Her tone suggested that it would be a cold day in hell before she  _ consented _ , but Luke would take what he could get.  

"Good.  I'll talk to Ambrose, you talk to Shira and Mike.  And maybe Reid. He'll get a better feel than anyone else."

"So mote it be."  Regine stood and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of her pants.  "You'll see, Luca. This will work out just fine in the end."


	11. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic classes were going //great.//

“But, professor, I don’t understand.”

Porter thought it might be possible that Sylvia would actually drive Professor Snape insane. 

“What,”  said professor ground out, “do you not understand this time, Greenbriar-”

“Why you would go for three times counter-clockwise in this - this potion.   Clearly, it has a very similar base to the one you were showing us yesterday, and it has a very similar end result, but that one you went seven times clockwise.”

“Ten points to - well, to you, Miss Greenbriar.  That is a very astute observation. The reason has to do with the asphodel stamens in this potion, which - and nobody has ever been able to explain to me why, but it always appears to be the case - do not like being stirred clockwise and often will overreact to any stirring.”

Sylvia was writing this all down.  Porter was just hoping not to blow his own whiskers  - or anyone else’s - off and settled for noting that the stirring pattern was very important. 

“Have you asked it?”  Kyle leaned forward. 

“Asked - what?  Mr. Audirsch?”

“The asphodel stamen.  I suppose it would be more of, um.  of  _ knowing _ the stamen. But my mother sometimes asks different plants -”

“That,” Professor Snape got a tight and unhappy tone in his voice again that he seemed to reserve only for Kyle, “that is one of those lines between fae and wizards.  We do not ‘ask’ the plants anything, Audirsch. We simply use them.”

“Hrrm.  Maybe I’ll get together with someone who likes to write papers - Sylvia? -”  Somehow he made it sound like the sort of invitation that had Arundel growling “-and do a cross-discipline study some day.”

“I am sure,” Professor Snape was trying very hard to sound polite.  It made him sound slightly ill, “that a paper such as that would be very well-received.  Now, Rivera, what have you done to yours?”

Arundel grinned unabashedly.  “I wanted to see what would happen if I pissed off the stamen, so I, ah-”

The potion was bubbling angrily. 

“Do you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation?”

Porter was fairly certain Professor Snape’s bellow could be heard back at Addergoole.

“Well, in a manner of speaking… no, actually.”  

Porter didn’t quite manage not to laugh.  “Sorry, sorry sir.” He bowed in the way that had mollified the professor a few times before.  “It’s just, well, he doesn’t. Literally. I mean, sort of. He has no sense of fear. None.”

“He - fae.”  Professor Snape shook his head.  “You may only continue in my classroom if you promise - and I do mean promise, a wand oath - not to do any experimentation except with my direct guidance.  That goes for you as well, Miss Greenbriar.”

Sylvia looked thrilled, which was probably not what the professor had been going for.  “Oh, really? We can experiment? That would be wonderful, sir.”

Porter thought - but he couldn’t be certain - that what the professor muttered while he pinched the bridge of his nose was “and just when I had gotten rid of Granger…”

Magic classes were going  _ great _ .

Wand magic was weird, but on the other hand, everything about this place was weird, so having one more thing that was a little off made it seem just like part of the package. 

On the other hand, their quest to get Kyle to Change was sort of a weird sort of just-like-home.  So far they had taken him on a surprise flying trip, scared him with the best monsters they could come up with, and told him where babies really came from. 

They were not, Porter had to admit, the most frightening of crews.  There might actually have been reason for the Big Bad Wolf sorts back at Addergoole. 

He was, however, not going to call home - or “Owl” home - and ask them to send, say, Hawthorne or Gregori or Amadeus or Thessaly-and-Lucian to chase around Kyle.  They could do it. They could - 

Sylvia casually dropped something in Kyle’s potion while the boy was asking Professor Snape something. Four things happened in quick succession after that

The potion exploded in a phenomenal shower of lights and fire.

Sylvia aimed her wand down low, surreptitiously, and very calmly cast a spell under her breath. 

Professor Snape cast a much louder and showier spell. 

Kyle fell backwards, yelping and holding his head.

Sylvia turned towards Professor Snape.  “I apologize, sir.” Her voice was far too calm.  Her voice was  _ often _ far too calm, but Porter felt like he was jumping out of his fur. "I wasn't paying attention."  Sylvia was a  _ horrible _ liar.  She sounded like she wasn't even trying to cover up her "mistake."  "I didn't mean to get that into Kyle's potion; I meant to put that in mine."

"What-" Professor Snape's voice was tight and angry. "What is  _ happening _ to him? What did you  _ do _ , Miss Greenbriar?  Nothing in your potions should have been able to mimic Polyjuice."

"Oh!"  Her startlement was real.  Porter was pretty startled, too.  Hadn't anyone told the Professor? "I'm sorry, I honestly thought you knew.  He'd going through his Change. That's all. What's Polyjuice?"

Porter took over, because the Professor's face was turning a strange color.  "Because Professor McGonagall knew, we thought you did, sir. This is, ah, please don't curse me."  He dropped his Mask. Arundel, of course, did the same. So then Sylvia did, too. "This is what we're like.  What happens when we, um.-"

"When we reach the beginning of maturity.  It's the sign of difference between a Fae and those that are called Faded," Sylvia took over seamlessly.  "So we end up - somehow different. Wings, fur, and so on. Kyle is, unsurprisingly, turning into a fox-boy."

"Unsurprisingly."  If Porter didn't know better, he'd have said the Professor's voice squeaked. 

"His mother is a rather well-known kitsune Change. Could we take him to the nurse's office, please?"

"Go."  He gestured them out with a wave of both hand.  "Go, go, and count yourself lucky if I let you return after that stunt.   _ Go!" _

Wizards were fae, right?  Porter wondered if it was possible to make an adult wizard Change. 


	12. Severus

Severus stomped into Professor Dumbledore's office, not bothering with a password, a knock, or anything of the sort. 

"Albus."

"Ah, Severus.  Lemon Drop?"

"They are fae."

"Yes.  You were aware of this, Severus."

"One of them  _ had not yet undergone the mutatio accidere possent!   _ He was still a child!  If his friends hadn't - hadn't blown a potion up in his face-"

"From what I understand of young Mr. Rivera, that was hardly a worry."

"That boy is a menace!  He admitted to my face that he has not fear!  How is a boy like that supposed to aid us against the Dark Lord?"

"Fearlessly, I'd imagine."  Albus raised one eyebrow. "It is not ideal, but I did not chose the students sent to us.  And the others?"

"This lot...!  It is bad enough that you sent Potter and his friends away - the prophecy...!"

"I know, Severus, I know.  But it was not a choice we were given.  Potter needed to go with them, or we would find ourselves with a much worse fight on our hands than Voldemort. The fae do not suffer agreements with them to be broken.  And the other three...?"

But Severus was not going to be waylaid yet again.  "Why did you send the Malfoy boy away? And Narcissa?  Are they hostages against my good behavior, Albus?"

"If it aids you to tell the Dark Lord such, feel free.  No. I sent Draco away to keep him safe and pure, and to remind Harry of where he comes from.  And I sent Narcissa with him so that he needn't worry that his mother is in danger while he is safe in a bunker on another continent."

"You sought to keep a single Slytherin boy safe." Severus' voice was flat. "By sending him to live among fae.  I don't believe you, Albus."

"I'm sorry, my dear boy, but it seemed like the best option.  There is more, of course - there is always more. It gets Narcissa out of the way as well, which undermines Lucius further.  I know that he's your friend-"

"That is certainly a word for it." Severus bit off the words. "Draco is my  _ godson _ , Albus.  You didn't even consider consulting me."

"I considered it." Albus steepled his fingers and looked over the wizened tips of them at Severus.  "However, it is in his best interests, mine, and yours to have him far away from Voldemort. The man is truly back, Severus, and you and I both know what that must mean.  If I could have sent others, I would have. But we will need someone here to help us, and deprived of Harry-"

"Potter."  He couldn't help the sneer.  It was as much a part of him as breathing.  "If  _ Harry Potter _ can't save us, then what?  These fae children?" Severus was suddenly reminded of why he had come. "The young man who had not even undergone his Adulthood Change.  Do you know what that  _ means _ to a fae child, Albus?"

"Yes.  Yes I do, I imagine better than you.  But as you said, Severus, his friends helped him.  I do believe you will find them to be very self-sufficient and very loyal to each other.  You needn't worry about them, Severus."

There was such dismissal in Albus' tone, Severus ws halfway to the door before he realized he'd been effectively shown out.  "Albus..." He sighed and didn't bother turning back around. "Your secrets will be the death of me some day."

"Of both of us, I imagine, dear boy.  Of both of us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay~~ Camp Nano, you know.


	13. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid Solomon drops some truth on Harry & co.

The suite was okay.  Harry wished they were keeping it, because when everything got too weird, they could retreat to the suite. 

It was fancier than any Muggle place he had ever been in, but not quite as fancy as parts of Hogwarts or, to hear Draco, the Malfoy Mansion.  It was comfortable, it had a kitchen he understood, and nobody but the four of them could get in and out of there. 

That, of course, meant that  _ Draco _ could get in and out, but they were going to have to live with the presence of Draco, or so Harry kept telling himself, so he tried to pretend having the git that close to him didn’t make his skin crawl. 

On the other hand, he was sort of having to pretend that  _ Draco _ was still the problem when this  _ school _ was all sorts of differently strange. 

They had spent three hours today being tested.  The first half had been by a man with thick glasses and three pens in the pocket of shirt who seemed to look right through them. 

Hermione had, of course, passed with flying colors. “I keep up with Muggle subjects when I’m home, of course.  It helps to know what’s going on in the world,” she’d explained breezily. 

Draco had done better than Harry wanted to admit. 

_ Ron _ had done better than Harry wanted to admit. 

He, on the other hand, had been struggling the whole time.  He hated it. 

The second half had been a different sort of torture.  That had been by a dark -haired woman with a green tint to her skin and a decided feeling of  _ tree _ to her.   She had been more patient with Harry, and he’d done better in those subjects - definitely better than Ron or Draco - but he still left feeling like a bit of a dunce. 

“We’re going to spend the next week getting you up to speed.  It’ll be a bit of an intense week, I’m afraid,” the man with glasses told them.  “Ron, Draco, I’ve been quite impressed with your scores in math and science, but I’m told that you did pretty poorly in literature and history.  Harry, I was led to understand that you were raised, ah, raised by normal humans. I’m a bit surprised-”

“Leave him alone!”  Hermione glared at the professor.  “You have no  _ idea _ about his life, and if you know that he was ‘raised by normal humans,’ then you know *why!*”

“It’s okay, Hermione.”  Harry intervened quickly, if weakly. “I know I’m an idiot.  I’ve never done well in classes -”

“Harry, that’s nonsense!  When have you not done well in class at Hogwarts?”

“Potions?  History of Magic?”

“Oh, come on, Potions is taught by Snape, and you do fine in History of Magic when you can stay awake!  Seriously, even I have trouble staying awake in that class. Professor.” She glared at the glasses man again.  “You have no call talking to Harry like that.”

“Actually, ‘Mione,” Ron tried to step in.  “I think he does. Isn’t he supposed to be testing us?”

“You stay out of it!”

“I don’t see why we need to learn these *History* and *Literature* things, anyway.”  Clearly it had been too long since someone paid attention to Draco. "That's not going to relate to us in the rest of our lives in any way at all."

"Harry?"  The professor looked at Harry; it was possible that he was completely ignoring Draco.  "Is there something that you want to tell me?"

"No, sir."

The professor  _ chuckled _ .  It was nothing like any of Dumbledore's chuckles; this was the sort of sound that you made when you had been caught saying something foolish.  "No, I imagine not. However, might there be something that you  _ would _ tell me anyway?"

Harry sighed.  "Uh. My cousin, Dudley.  I was raised with him. I could do what I wanted in History and Literature because my uncle didn't care about those.  Like Draco," he added unkindly. "But I couldn't make Dudders look bad in math or science, so I uh. I stopped paying attention."

"Harry!"  Hermione, predictably, was horrified.  "But those classes, they're *important*."

"So was getting a meal once a day," Harry retorted, far more honestly than he'd intended.  "Look, Professor, look 'Mione, I'm an idiot and it's my own fault and I know it, okay?"

"Hardly.  Harry, if you will spend half an hour a day with me, I believe we can get you up to snuff in no time at all.  As for you two, Ron, Draco; Professors VanderLinden and Valerian will be spending quite a bit of extra time with you.  H ermione, you'll need some American History refreshers but that's about it.  Perhaps you can help the other th—”

He was cut off by a groan from Harry and Ron — mostly Ron, but Harry was used to following along on this one — and then a perplexed noise from Draco. 

“...You would turn down academic help?  Don’t you want to get the best grades possible?”

Harry bit back a slightly rude answer and really considered his reply, which involved sticking an elbow in Ron’s ribs so that  _ he _ didn’t give the rude answer.  “Mostly I was trying to keep my head above water and learn enough to not die.  There’s been… mostly not dying since I came to school,” he muttered. 

Draco started to sneer and stopped himself.  “...It hasn’t been.” He didn’t seem like he believed it himself though. 

“Well, ah, third year turned out to be — not the person I thought was trying to kill me, at least?” Harry offered.  

“Oh, oh dear.  So academics have not been your priority.”  The Professor looked a little ill. “This makes some sort of sense, I believe.  However, you are a long distance from your wizarding world ills now, yes? And they cannot get through our wards, I assure you of that.”

“How can you be sure?”  If Draco looked anything, it was worried.  “The Dark— I mean — He-who-must-not-be-named, he’s very powerful.”

“Because I was already an adult the first time your Voldemort came to power, and I was living in Scotland for some of it.  And I know that I am myself powerful enough to hold him off.”

They all fell silent, staring at this middle-aged man in the thick glasses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends!  
> I am going to try something for the first week of May.  
> For any fanfic of mine on which I am the sole creator,   
> for every substantive comment I receive, I will open that doc and write 200-300 more words of that fic.   
> Once I get a chapter written (or in some cases, a sequel), I’ll post it. 
> 
> For this ‘fic, that’s about 1000 words or 4 comments.


	14. Reid Solomon

"And then you told them-"

"That I had been an adult when Voldemort - that's their current dark lord, the sort of boogeyman, Nedetakaei sort of their wold - when he first came to power.  And that I wasn't scared of him. That I was," Reid Solomon coughed, "more powerful than him even then."

"And they...?"

"The girl pulled out her wand and started casting spells on me while telling Harry to run."  Reid was, he had to admit, both amused and embarrassed. He didn't posture. He put a lot of work into never posturing, never bragging.  "They thought I was another dark lord, I believe."

"How did you sort that out?"

"Well, ah.  Harry told them that there was no way Luca would have put them under the tutelage of a Death Eater - the people that serve  their dark lord, I take it - and they argued about one called Severus Snape for a bit until Draco got sullen and said that he'd know if I was a Death Eater and obviously I wasn't, and that seemed, for some reason, to settle them down."

"Hrmph.  And their education?"

"The girl is brilliant and very well-educated. She reminds me a bit of Kailani.  The others are varying degrees of woeful, although Draco at least has a strong desire to be the top of his class and  _ better than that Granger girl _ which ought to keep him studying hard and working to catch up."

"Well, there are worse reasons to study.  The 'wizarding world' has always neglected proper  education in favor of indoctrination of one sort of another; it's not all that surprising that their education is lacking.  We will simply have to help them catch up as quickly as possible"

"Mm, yes.  I'd suggest picking some trustworthy or at least intelligent -" Reid was known for having the most intelligent students, but some of his class had definitely not been what he would call  _ trustworthy _ ; on the other hand, Luca's students were  _ all _ trustworthy but not always that bright "-older students and pairing them up as tutors.  Preferably not, say... Thessaly or Lucian, but maybe... Gregori?"

"Gregori, really?"

"He has a very strong work ethic and values scholarship strongly, and I believe he learned the lessons he needed to learn in his second year.  He's not an unwise man. Other options include, well..." He cleared his throat. "Cynara. Leofric..."

"Absolutely not."

"Regine, at some point you are going to have to admit that you were simply wrong about this crew and that the problems you have with them were caused by your own poor choices."

The Director aimed a look at him that bled disdain. "I don't see why."


	15. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the students to be tested! How have they managed to learn in their brief remedial wand-magic lessons?

“All right.  So if I swing my wand like this—”

“We do not  _ swing _ our wands.  That is the sort of thing one does with a cricket bat.”

“A what — no, never mind, I don’t need to know that one.  So if I swish my wand like this and say—  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ — neat.”  Porter had done the Levitation Level I charm any number of times, but it was still  _ neat _ every time, and sometimes  _ neato _ .  “All right.  And let’s see.  Transfiguration.”  Porter  _ loved _ transfiguration.  He didn’t talk this one out, just walked to the table and walked through the wand movements, turning the little silver teacup into an adorable kitten.  “That’s a cute little tiger-kitten.” He pet the cat a little bit, finding the  _ just right _ spot behind its ear, until Professor Snape cleared his throat. 

“Right!  Sorry, Professor.”

Ever since the incident with Kyle nearly blowing up, the Professor of Potions had been a little short with them, all of them but Kyle, unfairly, in Porter’s view of the world. 

That didn’t matter right now, though.  All he had to do was get through this potion. 

He was not nearly as good at potion-brewing as he was at charms or transfiguration, but he put on his best studious face and worked his way through the whole thing without singeing so much as a whisker. 

Next was flying.  He loved flying. He loved it possibly more than anything else so far in the magic world - except transfiguration - but it wasn’t an academic class and he was frankly surprised they’d considered it on the test. 

He finished the potion, bowed to Professor Snape, and waited. 

“Acceptable.  Now drink it.”

“Drink it?  But it’s Veritaserum.  That’s—”

“I am aware what it is.  Drink it.”

“Professor—”

“Or you will be in remedial potions for the entire year, and I do not think you will enjoy the dunderheads you will be studying with.”

Porter gulped and swallowed down the potion.  “That really wasn’t fair, Professor. Besides, what could you possibly want to find out from me that you couldn’t just ask?”

“Come with me.”  Professor Snape grabbed his arm and dragged Porter towards the exit.  “Minerva,” he called out in a voice designed to carry, “Mr. Wagner will be a few minutes late in attending his flying examination.  Madame Hooch can continue to marvel at Mr. Rivera if she wishes.”

“Hey, why!  Your grip is really rather unpleasant, you know.  And you know that I can just open a door and —”

“And I will still be holding your arm.  Yes. Now.” Snape closed a door behind them very quietly, leaving them alone in an empty classroom.  “What do you know of Harry Potter?”

“Is he the kid that they sent to Addergoole? Harry and… don’t remember their names.”  Porter screwed up his face and tried to concentrate. The potion felt a bit like a Mind Working but more clumsy.   He wondered if he’d made a mistake in the brewing. “I know that they’re part of this world and that Harry’s the one whose mother made the deal with Regine, but unlike the rest of us, he gets to bring friends along.  Doesn’t quite seemed fair, to be honest.”

“Fair?  What do you mean by fair in this circumstance?”

“Well, the thing about Addergoole is, everyone’s really isolated. If you’re lucky, you make friends, like Arundel and I did in our first year.  If you’re not, well, someone scoops you up. That happened too. Sylvia scooped Arundel up and I guess she got me as a bonus.”

“Fascinating. “  The Professor’s voice was dry and didn’t sound fascinated at all.  “But back to the matter at hand. Mr. Wagner.”

“I really don’t know anything else.  I know that you’re having trouble with some sort of Dark Lord, and we’re supposed to be your secret weapons, of a sort. I guess we’re not all that secret if you’re going to slip us truth potion, but what can you do?  I suppose I should have know,” Porter added, because the potion made him feel more talkative than normal and he was feeling more than a bit irritated as well, “that I couldn’t trust the teachers here to have my best interests at heart any more than in Addergoole.  Tell me, what’s Hogwarts’ secret mission? What’s its big goal in life? What’s Dumbledore doing when nobody's looking?”

“I’ll ask the questions here!  What’s Addergoole’s secret mission?”

Porter laughed.  It was more of a giggle, actually.  “I can’t tell you. Literally, I cannot tell you.  I am not going to have my magic broken just because you want to pour potion down my throat.  I guess you’ll have to ask Dumbledore.”

“Ask — Merlin’s balls, are all of you this useless?”

“You know, I’ve never really thought of myself as useless.  This is kind of fun. I could make a fortune slipping this into people's’ drinks for other people back at Addergoole.”  He belched. “Can I go now? I think I’m out of answers.”

“Yes, fine.  I’m sure there is someone else waiting to butcher a potion.”

~*~

“Congratulations. I do have to say, if all out students studied as hard as the four of you have over the last week, they would be the most amazing wizards this world has ever seen. As it is, you should all be able to ‘pass’ as American wizards without giving yourselves away. All of us — yes, even Professor Snape — are pleased with your progress and are willing to admit you into our classes with your age-mates. How do you feel about it?”

Porter rolled his shoulders and smiled. “Peachy.” He hadn’t told Arundel what had happened, but he had told Sylvia. Arundel had too much of a chance of going off on the Professor, and they were supposed to be fitting in here.

“Wonderful.” Sylvia’s smile was probably less sincere than Porter’s; at least, he hoped his looked better than that. “I believe we’ll be right at home here.”

_ Ouch _ . But if Professor McGonagall noticed or understood the dig, she didn’t react to it. Nothing more than a smile that looked a little thin herself and a glance over at Professor Snape.

“Very good. Tomorrow is the Sorting Feast and, after we welcome the first-year students, we’ll sort the four of you as well. I look forward to seeing which of you ends up in my house.”

“And in mine.” Professor Snape’s drawl was dour and threatening. He ran, what was it, slither something house? Porter was going to be sure not to end up in that house, no matter what.

“Thank you, Professors.” Sylvia was very polite. Sylvia was almost always very polite. “I’m sure this is going to be a learning experience for all of us.”

“You can say that again,” Kyle muttered.  

“That’s something to say, at least.”  Arundel was smiling. “I think this is going to be  _ fun _ .”


	16. Flitwick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone at Hogwarts has opinions on these new American students. As well they should.

“Really, I don’t see why you want to have the Hat sort them when they’re not little children.  The whole point of having the Hat sort them, Headmaster, is that we don’t know what sort of children they will grow into yet.  These four, these four are very clearly already grown into it, and at least two of them are clear Ravenclaws.”

“Two, mmm?”

Not for the first time, Filius Flitwick had the feeling that Albus Dumbledore was laughing at him.  Of course, much of the world talked down to him, but that was not  _ precisely _ the same thing, not in a world of oversized noodle-people.  

“At least two,” he repeated. 

“And the others?”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone putting Arundel in anything but Gryffindor.  That last one, the new fox-boy — do you know why his friends were pulling pranks on him until his ears popped out, Headmaster?”  It wasn’t important, but Filius was curious. Curiosity was a trait he embodied as much as his House, after all.

“Ah yes.  That relates to the lore separating the fae from the wizards, and is quite interesting in some lights.  It has to do with the thing the fae call the ‘Change.’”

It seemed for a moment like that was all that Albus was going to say. 

Filius waited. 

Sometimes that was the best idea with the Headmaster. 

“There are, ah.  There are portions of wizarding, that is, wand magic that are designed in such a way that they change the passageways of magic.  That is one reason that Centaurs and goblins, for example, do not use wand magic — or so I have been told. I am, of course, not an expert on the magic of those that are not wizards.”  The Headmaster endeavored to twinkle while looking mildly abashed. 

“Of course.” Filius did not snigger at the Headmaster.  It would be rude. Also, it would likely lead to less answers, and Filius wanted answers. 

“The short version is that all magical beings have in them the potential to become something other.  And that something regarding wand magic — oh, hello Delores. I did not expect you up in my office at this hour.”

The sickening woman glanced at Filius and dismissed him before pointing a glare at Dumbledore. “Professor.  Where is Harry Potter?”


	17. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fae magical world is a great deal different from the wizarding world, and some of it is just now sinking in.

There were things that Harry was learning, and so far, he didn’t like any of them. 

That wasn’t true.  He didn’t mind maths, he didn’t mind sciences, and he found parts of history fascinating - especially since it was being taught by a vibrant, living woman and not by a ghost who seemed to be sent to sleep by his own lectures. 

On the other hand, the things that Professor Valerian was privately teaching them about the Wizarding Split were making him spit nails, and the things he learned about the teachers at the school made him very uncomfortable in a variety of ways. 

He was in the strange position of sharing some of that discomfort with Draco, too.  They would come back to their suite, the four of them, after an exhausting day of having facts crammed into their heads by teachers who were trying to be patient - he thought - but who were also in a hurry, the beginning of classes inching closer and closer.  They would flop down on the couches and chairs, Hermione staring at her books, and generally either Harry or Draco would start. 

"That woman is a dryad."  Draco had spent the entire History class staring at Professor Valerian after she had shown them what lay under her "Mask," a sort of integral spell that let her appear human.  He seemed sufficiently frightened of Mr. Hunting-Hawk - and the man taught PE, which it had been assumed they could handle without remedial training, so they didn't see him every day.

"Professor Solomon used to work for the Government. The  _ Muggle _ government. How do they keep any secrecy? How do they  - I mean, do they just live with the Muggles?" 

"Harry James Potter," Hermione huffed, "I can't believe those words are coming from your mouth!  What's wrong with living with Muggles?"

"Nothing!"  Harry couldn't really put his finger on it.  "It's more - look. They said every kid here, every one of them except like, five, are raised thinking they're muggle, I mean, uh, human.  They live with humans, and then they come here, and... 'you're a wizard,' or in their case, a fae. I mean, we're being given the shortcut, that's what Professor Valerian-"

"The  _ dryad." _

“She’s still a professor.  It doesn’t matter if she’s, uh, green sometimes or not.”  Harry refused to be sidetracked. “That’s what Professor Valerian said.  That because we’ve been in the Wizarding world for a few years or our whole lives,” he nodded at Ron, “so they’re sort of shortcutting the ‘surprise!  You’re fae! element. But - okay, so everyone comes in here blind. Almost everyone. That’s kind of fair. You don’t have that Muggle-born, wizard-born split that the wizarding world has - shut it, Malfoy, I’m not done yet.”

“Mate,” Ron offered, sounding a little surprised, “I don’t think he was going to interrupt you.  I mean. This time.”

“… Sorry, Draco.” Had he just said those words?  He cleared his throat. “Okay, so, nobody knows what they are coming in.  There’s-” He shook his head. “There’s too much.”

Hermione picked it up.  “It smells like there’s something funny about this, about all these - not wizards, but sort of wizards - living around normal humans and managing to never reveal themselves?  Like there must be a massive amount of  _ Obliviate _ or something like it going on?  And like… this whole ‘and you can’t tell anyone that you know, or what you know’ - like there’s something  _ wrong _ there somehow?”

“Magical creatures are fae,” Draco muttered.  “Not all of them, I think - I’m not sure. But some of them.  House elves. Goblins. Centaurs. Dryads. Satyrs. They’re all fae.  _ They’re all fae _ .  Does that mean any one of them could have been a wand wizard?  And what about the people they sent to Hogwarts?”

“Professor Valerian says that they all know how to ‘Mask,’ that it’s one of the first things any fae learns,” Hermione offered.  “So they could have been any sort of magical creature.”

“And it they are…”  Harry shook his head. “What else is the wizarding world wrong about?  I mean- They also don’t have anything like the Trace.”

“So they can’t tell if you’re using magic underage, outside of school.”  Hermione frowned. “Oh, bur Harry, that could go so wrong. I know you want to use your magic —”

“I saved Dudly’s life!” Harry growled. 

“Mate, I don’t know why you’re happy about that.”

“Wait.” Draco stared at him. “Harry Potter doesn’t have a Trace-less wand?”

“Those are illegal,” Hermione protested. 

“Yes, but they are not all that illegal, as such things go.  More of an open secret. How does  _ Harry Potter _ —”

“—Raised by Muggles,” Harry cut him off.  “I mean, when you come down to it, I’m effectively Muggle-born.  Which means I’ll fit right in here.”

Draco looked him up and down. “Your  _ Harry Potter _ , you’re — you’re not going to fit in here any more than I am.”

Ron snorted.  Draco turned a look on him. 

“Let’s face it.  Where we come from, centaurs are  _ magical creatures _ , not fellow students, magic is done with wands, and the Herbology professor isn’t likely to need her own pot.   Potter here might have come from the Muggle side of things, as far as he knew — and whoever let that happen had to be the biggest idiot that the wizarding war had ever seen—”

“Oi!  That’s Headmaster Dumbledore you’re talking about!”  Ron was half out of his seat before Harry put up both hands to stop him. 

“Ron… I like Dumbledore and respect him, you know I do, mate.  But we can’t say leaving me with the  _ Dursleys _ was a good idea.”

“And sending me here?”  Draco sniffed. “And all of you lot.  What was that about?”

“I think…”  Hermione looked at all three of them.  Her voice was far less confident than Harry was used to hearing it.  “I think, ah. That it was about keeping us safe. Well. I think  _ Harry _ had to come here either way.  His mother made a promise, it sounded like.  A promise on her magic, maybe? And then, uh.  Mr. Hunting-Hawk wanted us here with him and Professor Dumbledore wanted you here.  So I think it was about keeping all of us safe.”

“I don’t want to be—”

“Safe? That’s rubbish!  I should be—”

They looked at each other and huffed.  Draco cleared his throat, as if realizing that agreeing with Harry was a little odd, and finished his sentence. 

“I should be with Father, helping.”

With the wind out of his sails, he didn’t look to Harry like he really meant it.  It made him think… did  _ he _ ?  But he still finished his own sentence. 

“I don’t want to be  _ safe. _  Nobody else is safe.  Why should I be?” He stopped, chewing on his lip.  “You guys, you should be safe, ‘Mione, Ron.” He hesitated.  “Draco. Everyone ought to be safe. But… But I’m —”

_ I have to fix this _ .

“Harry.”  Hermione patted his shoulder.  “Look. Look at it this way. If we — if we’re going to defeat the Dark Lord—” she aimed a look at Draco, but he didn’t even scoff “—this is going to be knowledge in that battle.  It’s okay to take a couple years and get strong.”

“He’s already killed Cedric!  He’s going to kill more people!”

“We know, mate.”  Ron was uncommonly solemn.  “We know. But come on. There’s a whole new library here for Hermione to research.  I hear they teach combat and tactics here, too. And…” He faltered and looked up at Draco.

Malfoy huffed.  “Plot all you want.  You’re still going up against my father and the strongest wizards in Britain.  You’re not going to win.” He stood up and flounced out.

“Well.”  Ron watched him go.  “This is going to be a fun four years.”


	18. Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco, don't go sulking and stomping around the new school on your own.

He stomped out of the suite, muttering to himself about Weasel and stupid Potter and his stupid everything. 

The Dark Lord was back, and he was real.  He didn’t want to think about it, but with four years with nobody but  _ Potter _ and his friends to talk to who knew anything about proper wizarding world matters — if they counted, which he was dubious about — he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it.  

The Dark Lord was back, and Draco’s father was serving him. 

Draco had thought of the Dark Lord as some handsome, charming pureblood who happened to be a little old-fashioned but who more or less was right in the way he looked at things.  Sure, some people had died, but you had to break some eggs to make an omelette, and all that. 

He’d thought of Lord Voldemort — even saying it in his head made him wince — as a charismatic,  _ correct _ , calm leader. 

He’d thought of his father as a sensible hand behind the throne who had managed to get out of any real trouble because, after all, he hadn’t  _ served _ Lord Voldemort (wince).  He’d simply been there, the way the Malfoys were, to gather power. 

That was all lies. 

Lord Voldemort was a bloody insane creature, hardly human —  _ none of us are human _ , some teacher’s voice muttered in his ears, and he shook his head as if to clear the sound from his head — hardly charismatic.  And his  _ father _ , his father worshipped the ground the man walked on.  No, more than that. His father was  _ afraid _ of the Dark Lord. 

Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. 

Potter and the mudbloods weren’t going to get put in their place — under Draco, of course.  If the Dark Lord had his way, everyone would be  _ murdered _ .  

What fun was being the best if there was nobody to look at you and know you were the best?

Somewhere deep in his mind, somewhere Draco didn’t quite admit to himself existed, he was also thinking  _ killing this many people is pretty horrible _ . 

He was safe here.  But what did that mean for his family?  For his  _ father _ ?

“Hello.”  A voice purred from behind him.  Draco turned around slowly. That was not a teacher’s voice.  That was —

That was _probably_ — no, _definitely_ — a woman, wearing a white dress that seemed to be inadequate to the job of holding in some impressive assets and sporting a bright smile that literally seemed to light up the hallway. 

He had not met her before - and they were supposed to stay out of sight.  On the other hand, she looked very happy to see him indeed, an expression Draco was not that familiar with, and beautiful, even if she probably was a mudblood or some sort of magical creature.  

“You’re  _ new _ .  You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

“That I’m not.”  He cleared his throat.  “And you are-”

“Well,  _ I’m  _  not supposed to be here either, of course not.  What a pretty accent! Can you say something else for me?”

“I — ah—”  She was  _ smiling _ and he thought he might die.  What sort of women did this place have?  Students? Couldn’t be! “Hello, Miss, I seem to be lost.  I’m looking for—” What could he be looking for? He hadn’t really been  _ looking _ at all. “—the Library.  Do you think you could point me in the right direction?”

“I can do better than that.  I can take you right there. This way.  But if you’re not supposed to be here and neither am I, I guess this is going to have to be our secret, isn’t it?”

“I, ah.”  He cleared his throat.  “Yes. It can be our secret — as long as you show me this Library?”

“This way.”  She put her hand in his.  “As long as you  _ promise  _ not to tell anyone else that you saw me.  All right?”

“All… all right.”  Draco looked down at her hand and smiled.  “I think I might come to like America after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, 
> 
> Who would you like to see -- Either Addergoole or Hogwarts side -- in these interludes? I have the next four written already, but after that is anyone's game!


	19. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Sorting!

“We’re going to have our Sorting as soon as all the first-years get here.  I’d suggest that you wait outside until that, and then I will bring you in.  It’s quite unusual - we do not often have ‘exchange students’ - so expect a little surprise, and then a little more, as you’re American, but I think you four will do quite well.  Quite well indeed.” Minerva McGonagall looked them over and smiled in something that Porter thought might be pride. 

“However, I must remind you of those things of which I’ve warned you.  I know that you are all probably quite tired of hearing all of these warnings, but if this - if  _ you _ are to succeed here at Hogwarts, it is of utmost significance.  Now, here, settle in. You’ll be able to watch the Sorting from here without being seen.”

“This Sorting-” Sylvia began.

“You’ll see quite soon,” McGonagall assured her.  She swept out before the four of them had settled in to the seats she’d indicated. 

They were in a small curtained alcove off of the main hall, one which happened to have a magical viewing portal to the hall.  Porter might have been more awed by it, but the last week had been full of all sorts of things that were strange even to him, a teleporting tiger. 

He checked his uniform one last time - wearing robes felt strange, and he wanted to do something to make them fit better - and checked that everyone else was Masked.  “This will be… interesting.” What else could he say? They’d already gone through one set of ‘being new to a school’ back in Addergoole - well, all of them but Kyle. Doing it again just felt like overkill. 

The first-year students looked  _ tiny _ .  They weren’t even teenagers yet - Professor Dumbledore had said that students started here at 11.  It made Porter want to wrap them all up in his arms and protect them from everything. 

Except here, the danger wasn’t other students.   They couldn’t get trapped like Arundel had, though that had worked out decently enough for him in the end.   They had some some of  _ Dark Lord _ that sounded unreal and that nobody really believed was back — except that Harry Potter guy and his friends, and the guy with the ridiculous beard who ran this place. 

Each tiny student toddled up to the front of the giant hall — exposed in front of everyone; that was  _ horrible _ — and put on this weird ratty old hat, the one that had been singing earlier.  And each time, after a second or a minute or forever, the hat would call out a name. 

Porter watched closely — the hat was actually talking, although it didn’t exactly have  _ lips _ .  Slyther something and Huffle something and so on, and each time a row of the students that were already there would cheer. 

“And now.” Professor Dumbledore seemed to have everyone’s attention. “Before I introduce our new professor, we have four exchange students from a small and prestigious American magical school,  Addergoole. They, too, will need to be sorted, and I hope you will welcome them with welcome arms just as you have welcomed your new first-year students.”

Professor McGonagall  stepped into their little alcove and ushered the four of them forward. 

“Audirsch, Kyle!” she called in a bright voice. 

Kyle walked forward to the front of the room, looking as if he was born to this, a little smirk on his face.  The hat sat on his head for seconds, ticking away, before finally deciding  _ Slytherin! _

There was more of a murmur than a cheer from that house, and everyone else leaned forward, watching, as Kyle’s robes took on green trim.  He waved cheerfully at the rest of them and headed off to the green-and-silver table as if he totally didn’t notice all the tension. 

Greenbriar, Sylvia was next - and she went to Ravenclaw, which surprised Porter not one bit.  He watched the Ravenclaw students move closer to her, welcoming her and whispering - not about her, but to her.  He wanted to go over there and help her, but on the other hand, he thought maybe this would be good for her in a way that Addergoole never had been. 

Rivera, Arundel came after Sylvia.  The hall was a little bit breezy as he walked forward; Porter smirked.  His friend was flapping under that Mask. Excited?

He whooped loudly when the hat announced  _ Gryffindor  _ and nearly danced to the confused-looking students with their red and gold.  Three houses already. Porter was feeling split into different directions already. He couldn’t be in the same house as  _ both _ his friends. 

And then Wagner, Porter stepped up and put the strange looking hat on his head. 

_ Oh, aren’t you interesting _ .  The hat seemed to purr in his ears.   _ You’re not our normal sort, but then again, neither were your friends.  So let’s not look at the fae parts, mm, let’s look at the person _ .

_ I’m a fae and a person _ , Porter protested.   _ It’s right in my name.  Port-er, I open les portes.  _

_ Yes, yes, but that’s not all you do, is it?  You care for your friends and you watch out for people, you step into trouble and you watch old movies.  There’s quite a bit to you, Mr. I Open Les Portes. So let’s see…  _

_ Ah, yes.  Hufflepuff! _

_ Not with any of my friends...  _

Porter stood up and looked at the Hufflepuff table.  They looked, he thought, a little bit confused about the whole matter, not particularly thrilled or upset. 

Well, he'd have to try to make friends, he supposed.   _ You care for your friends and you watch out for people. _

He could do that. 

A redheaded girl patted the seat next to her; she looked younger than him but not, the way the first-years did, painfully so.  He sat down and aimed his best smile at her. "Hi, thank you." He held out a hand. "I'm -"

"Wagner, Porter." She smiled at him.  Porter thought it looked a little strained around the edges.  She wasn't wearing a collar or anything at all around her neck - he checked, of course - and she shook his hand.  "I'm Susan Bones. I'm a fourth year here; you're-"

"Sixth year, I think that's what they said.  We do everything differently back home," he admitted. 

"We'll help you figure it all out here," she reassured him.  "We've never had exchange students before-"

Professor Dumbledore was standing again, drawing attention to himself.  Was it an Emotion Working? Porter knew a couple people back in Addergoole who could do something like that, although not that effectively. 

The start-of-term announcements were not as interesting, he found, as watching his now-fellow students. The looks he was getting made him wonder if he'd messed up his Mask somehow.  Were his stripes showing? Was he doing something horribly faux pas with his uniform? He'd never worn a uniform before. 

He checked himself over - his tie was tied, his hat was not on, his robe was sitting.

"It's just that you're new," hissed Susan.  "And you're  _ new _ and nearly done with school, and you're American.  Nobody here has ever really met an American before. Those other three you came in with - you knew them?"

She had the art of talking under the speech that was going on.  Porter didn't know if he did, so he tried to match her tone and not talk to much.  "Friends. Best friends," he added, because it felt important. "Since the day I got to Addergoole."

“Ahem-hem.”  A squat pink woman - not just any squat pink woman, this was the one that Professor McGonagall wanted them to avoid -  stood up and addressed the room. Porter stared at her, knew he was staring, and couldn’t help it. 

Her voice sounded like an upset rat.  Worse than that, though. Porter was pretty sure she had been talking for five minutes before she actually  _ said _ anything. 

And what she  _ did  _ say made him miss Regine.

“Is she serious?” he hissed at Susan.

“I - I think so.”  She looked horrified. “I have to, I have to owl my aunt.  I have to get out of here.”

She looked like she was trapped.  Porter gave her the best smile he could manage.  “As soon as Pink is done talking, all right? Then I can cover for you.”

“I - okay.  Okay.” She murmured something with a surreptitious wave of her wand.  Porter didn’t ask; she could tell him later, if it turned out he wanted to know. 

He held his breath until the pink thing was done and then stood up, blocking the view of Susan from the teacher’s table.  “So, I know there’s a lot of new firsties here, but since I’m your only new - sixth-ie? Oh, that sounds ridiculous, I thought I might take a few questions.”  He didn’t have a hat right now - Professor McGonagall had insisted - so he bowed instead, taking up as much room and attention as he could. “I’m Porter, and I’m here from America.  Fire away.”

_ He _ noticed Susan sneaking out, but he was willing to bet almost nobody else did.  Then he was under fire - so to speak - and he had attention just for keeping his lies straight.

This year was going to be fun, but man was it going to be strange. 


	20. Ginny

The new students had been Sorted.  Ginny watched them with narrowed eyes, these four that were supposed to replace her brother, her friend, and her — her  _ Harry _ . 

“Easy, Gin.”  Fred patted her on the shoulder.  “You’re going to stare a hole through the poor guy.  And he’s already an American.”

Ginny snorted.  “He deserves it.  What makes him think that he’s better than Harry?”

“Err, Gin?”  George appeared on the other side of her.  “I don’t think anyone said -”

“—or even thought—”

“Shit, even  _ considered thinking _ — that these guys were better than Harry and Ron and Hermione.”

“Though that redheaded kid might be better than Malfoy,” Fred added with a grin.  

“It’s just, you know—” 

“We know, short one.”  Both of them wrapped their arms around her.  “We miss them too. But look, it wasn’t Harry’s fault.”

“He didn’t have to take all of them!  He could’ve taken, oh, I don’t know, Seamus!”

“Would you really—”

“—have wanted our Harrykins-”

“—Out there in  _ America _ , of all places—”

“—With strange people,” Fred shuddered melodramatically.  Gin had heard it all before anyway, and Ron had told the family where he was going, so they all knew that their trio was at a  _ fae _ school _ ,  _ but it wasn’t like fae matters were taught in depth at Hogwarts or anything.   _ Strange people _ was about all any of them knew. 

Oh, and this weird guy was supposed to help replace Harry in the upcoming battle against Voldemort. 

“Ahem-hem.”

Ginny didn’t jump.  She was far too dignified for that.  She  _ did _ squeak.  And then she made herself turn around with every bit of dignity she could manage, picturing her mother when something had enraged her.  She raised her eyebrows politely. "Yes, ma'am?"

" _ Professor Umbridge," _ the woman instructed in a syrupy tone. "Did I hear you say something about Harry Potter?"

"I'm not certain, ma'am," Ginny replied politely.   _ Now _ she was channeling Fred and George.  Which, since they were sitting right next to her, was a bit of a trick. "That is, I'm not sure what you heard.  We were talking about our brother, Ron — that's Ronald Weasly — who has gone off to boarding school with some of his friends. "

"In  _ America _ ?"

The woman said it like it was some god-forsaken place on the far side of the moon.  Ginny wasn’t sure she disagreed, except on principle. 

"That's what Ron said, ma'am.  Somewhere in America. I miss him, you see, because I might have a lot of brothers —"

"Not nearly enough brothers," George put in. 

"—maybe nearly enough," she allowed.  "And don't let Mum hear you say that. She's said she's done with children and she hit Dad with a spoon for suggesting otherwise."

"—maybe nearly enough brothers," Fred allowed. 

"—But all my brothers are different to me."  She gave the woman a sweet look, the one that got her out of trouble with her mother half the time and with her father more than two-thirds the time.  "And I miss this one quite a bit, and I'm very sad that he's gone off and left me. Even though I still have Fred and George here with me," she added politely. 

Professor Umbridge's eyes narrowed.  "I was asking you about Harry Potter."

“Oh, Professor, you should have said so!  I think he’s wherever Ron is. But that’s all they told me, except that I can’t come.”  Ginny did her best sulk. It was benefited by the fact that she still  _ was  _ miffed about Harry going off to America with Ron and Hermione —  _ and Malfoy! _ and leaving her here, whatever that jerk with the wings said.  

“America.”  The woman’s eyes narrowed.  “Well, the wizarding schools in America will answer my owls.  They had better.”

“Good luck, Professor.”  Ginny kept her eyes wide and her look innocent until the professor was long out of earshot  _ and _ until she saw George twitch his wand in a silencing charm.  Then she leaned back against her brothers, guffawing for all she was worth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Two things: First, please let me know if there are any characters, Addergoole or Hogwarts, that you would like to see interludes like this from the viewpoint of. I've written through Ch. 27 (Luna), but I can't keep having Severus show up every third interlude...
> 
> Second, recs. 
> 
> I keep meaning to do this and failing! That is, leaving a rec for something else at the end of these chapters. 
> 
> A story I am currently reading and enjoying: Harry's Lie by Boyvoids, here on AO3. Trans Harry, Dumbledore who's manipulative but not awful, not-nasty Severus.


	21. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, they are *actually* welcomed to Addergoole!

Every time he thought Addergoole couldn’t get further from Hogwarts, something else lept out to bite Harry. 

They were in the introductory assembly — a meeting, not a meal, in some sort of pretty but very Muggle-feeling conference room — while the Director of the school  — not Headmaster — stood at the front, a younger man to her side, and greeted them. 

She was wearing pretty but  _ very _ Muggle clothes, but everyone here was.  Not a robe to be seen, all jeans and t-shirts and a few skirts here and there.  No  _ uniforms _ to be seen. 

There were also no wings or horns or tails in sight.  Professor Solomon had warned them about that, but it was still strange to have just gotten  _ used _ to there being winged and horned and so on teachers and now everyone just looked — 

Muggle. Normal.  Mundane.

 “Good evening,” the woman began, “and welcome to Addergoole School’s ninth year in session. For some of you, this is your first year here; for the rest of you, I ask your patience while I explain a few things you already know.”

Harry could feel Hermione sitting up straighter next to him.   _ A welcome speech that makes sense!  _  her face seemed to be saying.  

He tried to listen, too, but there were so many people here, and all of them, even the new people, seemed older than him and his friends. 

He thought the girl sitting to the other side of him was new — she had dishwater-blonde hair and a pretty smile that seemed to flicker as she listened to the Director. 

He’d missed something.  

This happened every time!

“… Addergoole is a bit of an experimental school. As such, some things here may seem a bit strange to you at first-”

He didn’t snort.  It was tricky, but he managed not to snort or cough or laugh out loud. 

Someone behind him  _ did _ snicker.  He didn’t turn around, not wanting to be obvious, but he wondered if that was a new student or a returning one.

“Those of you who are new this year will be known as the Ninth Cohort.   I know some of you have noticed the differences in your ages....”

Harry looked around again.  He wasn’t sure how you’d  _ notice _ something like that, unless you went around asking.  He was shorter than Ron — and, he had been miffed to notice, than Hermione after this past summer’s growth (on her part) — but he didn’t really look any different in age than the rest of them. 

Of course, the guy sitting  _ behind _ him looked older than a Seventh-Year.  He must’ve been the one snorting, too. He looked amused at everything — and, Harry couldn’t help but notice, rather handsome, with black hair in a ponytail and a pointed chin that somehow didn’t make him look weasel-like.  He caught Harry looking and winked at him. 

Harry shifted back to listen to the Director, or at least to pretend to a little bit better. He thought he might be blushing.  

“The school employs a full-time medical doctor, Dr. Caitrin, and psychologist, Dr. Mendosa. Their offices are just down the hallway from this auditorium, and are clearly marked, should you need their services.”

_ Well, good.  Maybe I should scope out my bed now. _

But the thing was — Dumbledore had told him he was safe from Voldemort here.  "Learn and grow, Harry, learn everything you can, because we will need it all when the time comes."  Without Voldemort trying to kill him, he might make it through a year without spending time in the infirmary. 

"—dinner will be in one hour in the dining hall, which I’m also sure you’ll all be able to find.”

He smirked at Ron, who grinned back at him.  They'd found the dining hall very easily their first day here.  It wasn't like it was tricky or anything, to be honest; it was right next to the auditorium. 

Of course, they'd have to get used to their new rooms now.  

“And again, welcome. Make yourselves at home.”

Harry snorted quietly.   _ Home _ was sometimes the Gryffindor tower, but nowhere else so far.  He made his way to his feet as everyone around him did. 

"So you're a new one, are you?"

Harry cleared his throat as he turned to look -  _ up _ , why was everyone so damned tall - at the bloke who'd winked at him. 

"What gave it away?"  He smiled as he said it, because he  _ was _ new, after all, and he wasn't eleven anymore, and they were  _ away from Voldemort _ .

"I was going to say the way you actually listened, but now I'm going to say that intriguing accent.  British?"

"London."  Harry nodded.  This was going well... if only he knew  _ what _ was going well. 

"Oi, mate, we're going to find our — our rooms and see who's there.  You with us?"

Ron Weasley, as clueless as ever.  Harry ducked his head at the guy. "Ah, that's me, then."

"Well, we'll have to talk later."  The bloke held out a hand. "I'm Gregori."

"Harry.  Nice to meet you."

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine.  Good luck finding your rooms."

"Oh, we —"  He stopped as Hermione kicked him.  "Ha. This is my friend Hermione, my friend Ron, and this is Draco," he added, although Draco was turning away from them towards an attractive girl in a white sundress that reminded Harry, somehow, of a veela. 

"Nice to meet you all."   Something about Gregori's smile spoke of secrets.  Harry frowned. He was getting sick of  _ everything _ being a secret. 

"Likewise."  Hermione bobbed her head. "Come on, Harry, I've got all of our room assignments and I want to explore a little bit more.  I heard there was a grotto somewhere with all sorts of plants—"

"You should ask my friend Hemlock," Gregori cut in, even though he kept  _ seeming _ like he was leaving.  "I think he'd like to show you the grotto."

"Oh, is he into botany?  With a name like Hemlock..."

The look of surprise on Gregori's face was gone quickly enough that Harry almost thought he'd imagined it.  "He  _ does _ like plants, Yes.  I'll let him know to come see you.  What room?'

"Let's see, it's Pod 8, Room 3.  How curious. How are pods chosen, do you know?  In our school back home, we were all in Houses which were meant to define a certain personality trait.  But here, we're all in different Pods."

"Houses, hunh?  Things like that you work out for yourself, here, they're called crews.  Later years, you'll probably end up in a suite with one, but there's never enough for first-year students to have one. 

Even Harry could see the fishing there for what it is.  If they hadn't already talked to Sheba about this, though, he might have been surprised.  As it was, he winked at Gregori, feeling far braver than he had in years. 

"I just met you; let's wait 'till the second date to talk about moving in."

He hadn't actually expected it to  _ work _ .  Gregori grinned. 

"Right, where'd you say your room was again?"  He peered at the page. "Pod 3, Room 3. Good. Once I send Hemlock to visit your friend, I'll be stopping in so we can discuss dates.  And as for you—" His eyes settled on Ron. "Mmm. I have some ideas. I'll see you four later, though." He headed off while Harry was still collecting his jaw from the floor. 

"I, um, mate, did you just make a date with that guy?"

"I - think I did.  Come on. Let's find our rooms before someone makes a date with Malfoy."

"Oi!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's recommendation  
> Confidential Correspondence, by JuweWright & Nantai here on AO3
> 
> Remus and Severus write letters back and forth after the events of end of the 1993/94 school year.


	22. Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for this one!

He wasn't sure if he felt more like an adult or more like a kid than he ever had.  Maybe both. 

He'd talked to Lady Maureen; he'd talked to Doug, who looked a great deal like his father, but an inch taller and with a deeper scowl, if that was possible.  They had decided — No, they'd actually  _ asked _ Sirius and worked with him to decide, which was new — that he ought to try out a bunch of different things before he settled on a job for the time Harry was at this Addergoole place. 

So now Sirius was doing something he had never really considered doing.  Well, lots of things he'd never considered doing. 

He'd been an Auror, for a few years there before Harry — before the whole thing — before Lily and James had died. He'd been a prisoner after that, and then, for a year, two years, he'd been a fugitive from the law.  

Now he was learning how to be a carpenter.  And a bartender. A child-minder. And a groundskeeper. 

Right now, he wasn't all that good at any of them, but when Harry's letter came complaining that he was having a hard time with all the American school subjects, he could write back and say  _ Me too, Little Prongs.  I'm having a hard time with the subject of Being an Adult.  Who knew it was so much work? _

Not Sirus, that was for sure. 

Today he was helping Lady Maureen at the crèche, which involved handling a lot of small children.  Really just handling, sitting in an armchair with two of them in his lap telling them nonsense stories.  "They need to be touched, loved, handled," Lady Maureen had told him. "So all you need to do is not drop them and talk a lot."

"I can do that," he'd assured her, and now he was not-dropping children from newborns to three-year-olds in shifts, stopping only to stretch, drink some water, lose some water, repeat. "How many children  _ are _ there here?" he finally asked the handsome woman with the strange eyes who kept handing him babies. 

She merely smiled at him, which Sirius found not at all reassuring, and handed him another two children.  "Here we go. Want a book to read this time?"

"Nah."  Sirius found himself smiling.  "This part, I've got.”

"There was once," he told the children, "a little boy, and the little boy wanted more than anything to be a deer like his father..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's recommendation: Blind Luck by wolfiefics, here on Ao3  
> Severus and Remus survive the war, but Remus is blinded.  
> Severus decides that what he and Remus both need is to live together.  
> 
> 
> **Talk to Me!**  
>  lynthornealder.com  
> tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
> twitter.com/lynthornealder


	23. Porter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porter is taking Defense. Well, he's sitting through it, at least.

It was a good thing they'd had a week of Remedial Wizarding Classes. 

If they had not, Porter thought he would not have been able to sit through an entire day of this. 

Charms, Charms was fun and he was enjoying it.  Potions was less fun without Arundel there, and though he had double Potions with Ravenclaw, it was by year, not by skill level, so no Sylvia (and, also, the only one he'd ever have classes with was Arundel, which sucked), and they all seemed to sit just with their House, which was stupid.  Muggle Studies had been hard. He'd had to struggle to keep from laughing through the whole thing.

Now he was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, also a double class with Ravenclaw, and he thought his eyes might bleed from boredom. 

He flipped a few pages ahead in the book they were reading —  

just reading

Nothing else. 

  * Chapter One: “ _Basics for Beginners_ ”  



He was pretty sure any first-year student at Addergoole —  _ no _ , he was pretty sure if you took one of the little eleven-year-olds here and put them in Addergoole, they'd learn more than this in the first week. 

  * Chapter Two: “ _Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation_ ” 
  * Chapter Three: “ _The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack_ ” 



He stared at these.  This was — this was going to get someone killed. 

Porter was not a fighter, not the way Arundel was, not a cy'Luca.  He was a charmer, a smile-er, a dancer, an actor. He got through life with a broad smile and a hasty exit door. 

But even he knew how to knock someone down when they were attacking you. 

Even  _ Sylvia _ , who would rather read a book or study something in the field than ever get into a fight, had a go-to Working to knock an attacker unconscious. 

Porter picked up his quill — his very carefully Worked quill, because Sylvia had taken two days before swearing at the damn things and  _ fixing _ them — and his paper and started taking notes.  Angry, polite notes that made him feel like Sylvia or like those moments Kailani had gotten up in front of everyone. 

"Is there a problem, Mr. Wagner?" Professor Umbridge asked, sweetly, like she was hoping there was one. 

Porter gave her his best smile, the one he'd been working on copying from old black and white movies.  "No, ma'am." They seemed to think Americans drawled, so he drawled a little. "This is just so interesting that I want to make sure I take notes."

Behind him and to the right, someone coughed.  He felt a little guilty about that; he didn't want to get anyone  _ else _ in trouble.

"Do they not teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in America?"

Porter had actually been working on that one since someone described the class to him, and more since he started reading the book. “We learn Defense,” he told her quite honestly, “whether the arts being used are inherently Dark or Light.  After all, friendly fire gets you just as dead, doesn't it?”

“Mr. Wagner!  There will be no talk of death in these classes!  You are children!”

Now  _ that _ surprised him.  He didn't bother to hide the surprise, either. “Ma'am - yes, ma'am.  Of course. I'll go back to taking notes, then?”

“There will be no more of this talk,” she repeated, as if he hadn't been listening.  “Don't let me hear you discussing death again, Mr. Wagner. I don't know how they do things where you're from—”

_ There are ghosts here.   How do you think they got here? _

_ “ _ I won't let you hear anything more of the sort, ma'am.  I'm sorry for the interruption.” He flipped the page and went back to taking his notes as solemnly as possible.

He was just grateful that whoever was laughing in the back seat managed to do it quietly enough that Professor Umbridge either missed it or felt safe ignoring it.  He hadn't had a teacher outright  _ antagonistic _ towards him since he left normal school, but that was definitely how this woman sounded. 

Then again, if he'd been the one responsible for this farce of a textbook, he might have been defensive, too.  Director Regine would have laughed someone out of her school if they tried to teach from this thing.

They had the whole class period and just one chapter to read, so he read through the whole thing like he was its editor and he had to get it past Dr. Regine.  When Madam Umbridge wandered too close to him a few times, he decided caution was the way to go and muttered — out of her hearing but, possibly, in hearing range of his seat-mate, Parson Summers — a Working that would make it look like his paper held nothing derogatory towards the text.

(Sylvia had taught him that one last year, although he hadn't had much use for it back in Addergoole). 

The class wrapped up with seven pages of notes in front of Porter and him ready to make his own book — if only he knew enough about wand Defense.   It seemed like a thing these kids needed, which — well, it made him want to protect them all, even though they were his age.

Summers at least waited 'till they were out of the classroom.  "What was that all about, mate?"

"I don't know why she hates me," Porter bemoaned.  "I mean, is hating Americans a thing? Am I doomed?"

"Doomed," Summers agreed cheerfully. "Everyone here absolutely hates Americans.  Loathes them relax, I'm having you on. Besides, you know that’s not what I was talking about.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Porter countered, just as cheerfully. He barely knew Summers, although they shared a dorm — the 6th-year Hufflepuff boys, and wasn't  _ that _ weird, after a year of his own room in the crew suite at Addergoole —  and he wasn't sure how much he could get away with revealing. Since they were supposed to  _ not say anything at all _ about being fae, he figured giving it away on the first day of classes was probably a bad idea. 

"That muttered thing you did over your notes — heck, what  _ were _ your notes?  How did you even find  _ anything _ to write notes about in this thing?"  He shook the book with disdain. "It's like  _ My First Primer on Defense _ , for five-year-olds."

"Critique."  That part, Porter knew he could answer safely.  "Everything I'd do differently if I was writing the text.  Everything I think is wrong."

"And you only got seven pages?"

"Hey, like I said, we teach the subject differently in the States."

"Usually we do it differently here, too."  Summers dropped his voice to a whisper. "There's a rumor that the position of Defense professor is cursed by You-Know-Who.  We haven't had the same professor twice in a row and I hear it's been that way a long time. Last year, our professor was a Death-Eater who'd been polyjuiced to look like an Auror."

Porter tried to process that sentence.  You-Know-Who was the baddy. Death-Eater were his followers, right?  But — "I think we used different terms in the States. Polyjuiced?"

"Hunh, I didn't think the potions would have different names.  That has to make things fun."

"Even the  _ floors  _ have different names.  Polyjuice?"

"It's this potion that changes your appearance to that of someone else.  Needs a bit of their hair. Pretty gross if you ask me, but if you're a Death Eater, maybe you don't care about those things."

_ A potion to do something that's otherwise just a complicated Tlacatl Working.   _   That wasn't what he was supposed to be focusing on.  "How'd he teach the class?"

"What, the Death Eater?" Summers shot him a surprised glance. Surprised, with something else in it, too. 

"Yeah."  Porter grinned.  "Look, this text book — I'm not sure exactly how evil someone is would matter if they were a good teacher compared to... nothing."

"He wasn't."  Summers' voice had gone flat.  "Well." He shrugged, somehow a full body gesture.  "We learned a lot, but it was a little too  _ practical _ .  Performing Unforgivables, that sort of thing."

Unforgivables, Porter had at least heard of.  "Okay, won't put that in my revised curriculum suggestion."  He grinned, hoping to take the dark edge off of Summer's mood. 

Summers smiled back, albeit a bit shakily.  "You're mad."

"Entirely bonkers,"Porter agreed, with his best Cheshire-Tiger grin.  "But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's recommendation: Finding Home by dearjayycee, here on Ao3  
> An AU in which creature inheritances (remarkably similar to some of the Changes in the Fae Apoc/Addergoole setting) exist - and Harry has one.
> 
> **  
> Talk to Me!**  
>  lynthornealder.com  
> tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
> twitter.com/lynthornealder


	24. Severus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus was not entirely certain that these Americans would not be the death of him.

He was not entirely certain that these Americans would not be the death of him. 

He wasn't entirely certain he would not  _ welcome _ that. 

The Dark Lord was fully back, and Severus had almost no idea where Harry Potter was.  The  _ Ministry _ did not know where Harry Potter was.  These four whelps, they had some idea, but that was hardly doing to do him any good when they couldn't  _ \- couldn't _   - tell him.   Albus had some idea, clearly, and didn't appear very happy about it. 

And that was only the beginning of his problems. 

"Yes, Miss Greenbriar?"

She was definitely a Ravenclaw through and through - but he thought there was a line of deviousness in her that his snakes would do well to appreciate.  

"I am curious--"

Severus managed to hide his desire to flinch.  She was not as frightening as the Dark Lord, after all. 

Not all of her classmates managed the same. 

"--what would happen if you substituted  _ Artemisia genipi _ for   _ Artemisia absinthium _ in this potion?"

"Alpine wormwood?"  He meant to sneer, but he found he was curious.  "Why would you do that, Miss Greenbriar?"

"The text here calls for  _ wormwood _ , and when I researched the potion in the library in hopes of learning some specificity -- it's like saying  _ basil _ for cooking! -- I found that almost every text was unclear on which wormwood to use, but one of the oldest texts had a much stronger reaction anticipated in the potion and a much more pungent end result.  Perhaps the  _ Artemisia absinthium _ was used for its more swallow-able result?  And if that's the case, there are a few other plants called  _ wormwood _ as well...?"

"Miss Greenbriar, may I suggest you come back tonight after dinner.  I will procure the  _ genipi _ .  We will experiment.  Anyone else who honestly wishes to try this may stay as well."

The girl might be a fae, but she had the makings of a potions master - if she didn't kill him or his class first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's recommendation: Made of Common Clay by Lomonaaeren, here on AO3  
> Harry, bitter, jaded, and a bit OP after a decade in the Ministry, decides to deal with some problems in the Wizarding World in a rather over the top (and effective) manner. Actually complete!
> 
> Recs posted in this fic are now findable in my bookmarks - https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Exchange%20Students%20Recs
> 
> **  
> **  
> Talk to Me!  
>  lynthornealder.com  
> tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
> twitter.com/lynthornealder


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